


dark as a tomb (where it happens)

by writtenrevolution



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Explicit Language, George Washington's Thighs, Hair Pulling, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Power Dynamics, Romance, Sir Kink, Thomas and Alex are friendly (sorta), author is projecting, boss au, but like low-key, happy endings all around, letter writing, prose, several small non romantic hookups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-10-25 17:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenrevolution/pseuds/writtenrevolution
Summary: In which Alexander's been in love with his boss for two years. The same boss he's never going to see again after tomorrow.Aka: The one where anything goes when you have nothing left to lose.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I'm finally back to writing in the Hamilton fandom! I've been gone for awhile, but Chris Jackson's thighs and amazing personality have inspired me to write once more. I have no long term plans for this fic, but expect some angst, some cuteness, and a sporadic updating schedule!
> 
> Let me know what you think?

“It’s officially your last day. Have you made your move yet?”

Alexander looks up from his laptop to see Eliza standing in front of his desk, hands splayed on top of the smooth wood. She looks just as beautiful as always, long black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, smile soft and genuine. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lies, knowing damn well exactly what her words imply. 

“We both know what I mean.” She chides him, “Are you going to tell Washington how you feel?”

Alexander resigns himself to not getting anything done for the time being, and closes his laptop. “If by how I feel you mean express my gratitude for him giving me the opportunity to work under one of the best lawyers at the best firm in the state, then yes I’m planning on telling him that.”

He watches her roll her eyes, and admires how she somehow makes the action seem delicate, “And are you going to tell him about how you’re in love with him?” Her voice takes on a singsong melody and she raises her eyebrows a couple times to drive the point home. 

“No, ‘Liza, that won’t be mentioned.”

Her face grows disappointed, “Why would you not tell him?”

“I don’t think it’s any of his business.”

A scoff. “Yes because this thing that totally involves him is somehow none of his business.”

“Precisely, love. Now if you’ll excuse me, Washington needs this done by the end of the day.”

She just looks at him for a moment, before a sigh escapes her delicate lips and she holds her hands up in the motion of a surrender, “Fine, but for what it's worth, you’re leaving. Come tomorrow you’ll be a million miles from here, from Washington, and I think you’ll regret it if you don’t tell him before you go.”

There is sadness in her voice, and Alexander is reminded for the one hundredth time that Washington isn’t the only person he’s leaving behind. 

“New York isn’t that far, ‘Liza, and you know my door is always open.”

She laughs out loud, the melody enchanting and beautiful to his ears, “No offense, but I don’t think I could stand to witness more of you and Thomas arguing. God knows why you thought it was a good idea to move in together.”

“He’s rich.” Alex says with a shrug and her smile grows. 

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to work, but you better come say goodbye before you leave for the day.”

“You know I will. I already spend more time in finance than I do here.” He says with a grin and a wink, and then Eliza’s waving goodbye to him and stepping away from his desk. 

Alexander opens his laptop back open, but before he can type in his password, movement in front of him catches his eye. 

It’s Washington, because of course it is. 

He’s in his office, the blinds to the rest of the office open and welcoming. Alex watches as he walks around the room, headset firmly set in his ear. He looks calm as usual, but his pacing gives his anxiety away. Probably closing a big case or something, Alex assumes. And while he might be a mature adult, he’s not blind. He looks at the bulge of Washington’s arms in his too tight striped button up shirt, the broad width of his shoulders, the jut of his strong thighs, and - of course - the curve of his ass in those grey dress pants. 

Like he said, mature but not blind.

With a huff, he turns back to his laptop. He didn’t spend two years working as an overworked secretary for the scenery. In fact, he hadn’t liked Washington much when he got interviewed for the position straight out of high school. He was broke and hungry, needing a paycheck more than he needed anything else. And Washington was cold. He was the distant kind of employer that Alexander had dreaded. No pleasantries or small talk, not even constructive criticism on his mistakes. 

But Alexander had persevered. Despite his initial distaste everyone in the office had only kind things to say about their boss. That he was caring, intelligent, and had a big heart - even if he didn’t always show it. And Alexander, being the needy for praise kid that he was - took it upon himself to get under the thick armour surrounding his boss. 

And after months of uncompensated overtime, too early mornings, and late nights, Alexander had proved that he was capable and needed. Not only to Washington and the rest of the firm, but to himself as well. And day by day, Washington opened up a little more, allowing Alex to finally get a read on the stoicism he surrounded himself with. 

And just when he was starting to admire Washington, Alexander went and fucked it all up. 

Alex remembers the first time he realized how in over his head he was. It was on the annual company retreat to the poconos, at the firm held black tie company dinner. He had taken the elevator down to the lobby with Jefferson, joking about the recently fired Charles Lee, and when the doors opened, Alexander saw him. 

Washington was several feet in front of the elevator, holding a champagne flute and laughing with Martha Dandridge. And, oh God, he looked incredible. 

Alexander was used to seeing his boss in suits, it comes with the territory of having a lawyer for a boss, but he had never seen him in a tux. He was wearing a grey window check tux that dragged against every ounce of his body, and he looked so carefree and light. 

Thomas was still talking, but Alexander heard none of it. His eyes were focused on the way Washington’s smile curved as Martha leaned in to whisper something. And then Washington had turned towards the elevator and his eyes found Alex’s. Washington’s smile grew into something softer, his eyes full of unbridled amusement and Alexander choked on nothing. 

He had taken a deep breath, brushed off the concern hidden under amusement that Thomas had sent him and walked into the lobby, in the opposite direction of where Washington was standing. 

It was later that night when Washington finally cornered him, that Alexander had just drank enough to make him feel pleasantly warm and buzzed. His boss offered him a polite smile, stealing another flute of champagne off the passing cart to hand to him. 

“You look very nice tonight, my boy.”

Alexander swallowed, his eyes not leaving Washington’s when he replied, “Thank you, sir.”

And then Washington took another step closer, overwhelming Alexander with the sweet smell of his cologne. “Although, you have a wrinkle,” He trailed a flat palm across the shoulder of Alex’s tux, “Right here.”

Even through the thick fabric of his tux jacket and dress shirt, Alexander could feel the heat of his boss’s hand. It trailed for only a second, before Washington pulled it away, and Alex immediately missed the warmth. 

“There,” Washington said, “Perfect.”

And that was when Alexander realized that he may or may not be in love with the man. 

So, being the mature adult he was, Alexander avoided the situation. And when Thomas told him a few months later that he was moving to New York and asked if Alex was ready to collect on his Columbia deference, he had no choice but to say yes. Not only was he finally going to go to law school, but he was getting the opportunity to get away from Washington. 

He blinks a few times at his laptop, tries to remember what the fuck he was even typing. Alexander rereads the last few sentences, remembers his train of thought, and begins to type again. 

Like usual, he eats lunch with Thomas.

He sits, waiting, until the clock on his computer reaches 12:30, before he all but sprints to the breakroom. Thomas is already there, his salad sitting untouched as he picks through a bowl of mac and cheese. 

Alexander drops down in the seat next to him, throwing his hand over his eyes like a nineteenth century heroine and groans. “Please kill me.”

“And pay rent by myself? No thanks.”

“You’re already paying three times what I am.” Alexander says with a grin, “And we both know you can afford it.”

“But then who would wake me up in the middle of the night with horrendously atrocious two hour debates on the separation of church and state?”

“Okay it was one time, asshole, and you’re the one who answered the phone.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and stabs his fork into the bowl of mac and cheese in front of him, “I thought you might be dead, but whatever. Why do you want me to kill you?”

“It’s our last day."

Thomas looks at him, face blank. 

“And Eliza wants me to tell Washington about these  _ feelings _ or whatever.” Alexander says, drenching the word with all the hate he can muster. 

“Oh, right. That you have a hard on for his ass.”

“It’s not just his ass!”

Thomas snorts, “Right, a hard on for his brain too, because that makes it any less creepy.”

Alex sinks into his chair and resists the urge to punch that smirk off Thomas’ face. “It’s not creepy.”

“Alex, the guy’s got twenty-five years on you, it’s a little creepy.”

“And that’s just the problem!” Alex says with a smack of his hands against the table, “He’d never ever go for it. If I thought that maybe there was a chance, I’d tell him. But he’s older than me, and more mature, and smarter, and all around perfect. He’s not going to go out with the guy that was his secretary for two years.”

“I don’t know, a lot of porn starts that way.”

“Shut up,” Alex says with a huff of laughter, “And that’s not even the point. Even if he was up for it, we’re leaving tomorrow. Nothing good would come of it.”

Thomas shrugs, “Maybe an orgasm or two would help you be less bitchy.” His friend’s smirk grows, “Would you have to call him daddy in bed?”

He shoves Thomas with the palm of his hand and groans, “Shut the fuck up, I hate you.”

Thomas’s answering grin makes him want to call off the whole New York thing right there. 

The end of the day approaches far too soon for Alexander’s taste. As much as he’s looking forward to New York, he wants to drag this out. There are so many people here that he’s going to miss. Friends, mentors, even the people he hates. They’ve been the only constant in his life for the past two years, and the thought of leaving is hard. 

It’s after he’s accepted his goodbye cupcakes from the finance department (orchestrated by the Schuyler sisters of course) that Alexander’s ready to clock out for the day. He says his last goodbyes, hugs Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy especially hard and thanks them for being his closest friends through the last years. 

Eventually, the only thing he has left to do is drop his documents off with Washington, and then it’s home to finish packing and off to New York. 

He grabs the stapled papers from his desk and, for the last time, knocks on Washington’s door. 

“Come in,”

Alexander pushes the door open and steps inside. He notices that the blinds that were once open, are now shut. 

Washington is sitting behind his desk, eyes roaming over a few case files that are strewn across it. He looks up when the door shuts behind Alexander, and his stoic face dissolves into a hint of a smile. 

“Alexander, my boy,” Washington says, folded his hands behind his head, “How was your last day?”

“It was good, sir.” He replies automatically, “I have those files you asked for. The ones for the Weeks trial.”

“Thank you, son.” Washington says, grabbing them from his hand and places them next to an unopened stack of paperwork.

“Okay, well then I guess I’ll just-”

“Sit.” His boss’s eyes find his, “Please.”

Alexander has no choice but to follow orders. He sits in the seat directly across from Washington, keeping his back straight and his arms at his sides. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” Washington says, phrased more as a statement than a question. 

Nonetheless he responds, “Yes, sir.”

“Well, as sad as I am to see you go, I have the utmost confidence that your destined to do great things in New York.”

Alexander swallows at the praise, watches the way Washington licks his bottom lip before continuing, “And I thought a thank you gift was in order. You’ve done remarkable things here.”

“Thank you sir, but I assure you that wasn’t necessary.”

Washington’s lips crack into a small smile. “It is. You have made my life unreasonably easy since you came here, and I would like to show my appreciation for the effort and time you’ve put in.”

Alex watches as he reaches under the desk and returns with a small white box. He hands it to Alexander, who accepts with shaky hands. 

“You can wait until you get home to open it, although I would love to see your reaction.” Washington tells him, standing and coming to lean against the desk in front of Alexander. 

His thoughts are running too quick to process. Why did Washington get him a gift? Did he get Thomas a gift? What kind of gift would Washington even get him? Is he going to have to burn it as soon as he gets home so the reminder of Washington isn’t present?

He opens the box, revealing a small wooden box with a feather on top. Alex looks at Washington, throat dry, and pulls open the wooden box. 

His breath is sucked from his lungs. The contents are unmistakable. Inside is an antique quill set. There are three beautifully carved pens, a handful of nibs, and two glass bottles of ink. The marksmanship is exquisite and delicate, and Alexander knows, without a doubt, that this was an expensive purchase. 

“You once mentioned how badly you wanted a set.”

“Sir,” Alexander croaks, “You shouldn’t have. It’s too much.”

Washington’s hand comes to rest on Alexander’s, “Considering all you’ve done for me, it’s not enough.”

And Washington is so close, the smell of his cologne intoxicating and the color of his eyes too perfect to look away from. Alex is struck by how deep his feelings for his boss run, how badly he wants nothing more than for Washington to want him. 

He doesn’t know what it is about his boss. Doesn’t know if it’s his secret humor, his intelligence, the curve of his nose in the light, or the way his eyes dance with mirth, but Alexander is stuck on him. And he has a feeling that despite his initial plan, it isn’t going anywhere soon. 

And Eliza’s words ring in his head, clear as bells in the Christmas. He doesn’t want to leave with unfinished business. He doesn’t want to pack up and move on when part of his heart is still stuck here. He doesn’t want to leave without Washington knowing exactly where they stand, where Alexander stands. 

So he does the only logical thing he can think of, and he leans up and connects their lips. 

Alexander stays there a moment, giving Washington the opportunity to scoff and push him away in disgust, but when his boss, too, doesn’t move, Alexander considers this fair game and decides that if this is his only kiss with Washington, he’s going to make it a damn good one. 

He throws two years worth of longing into it, moves the quill set so he can reach up and cup the side of his boss’s face. After a moment, Washington’s posture loosens and Alex can feel him lean into the kiss. It sends a downward spiral of want through his blood and he pushes up from his chair and crowds Washington further back against the desk behind him. His lip traces the seam of Washington’s plump lower lip, and loses his breath when he feels Washington’s hands come up to rest against his hips, pulling him closer. 

Maybe it takes him a moment to react, or maybe he - too - had a running monologue in his head that was trying to talk him out of it, but after a long moment Washington seems to break and throws back just as hard as Alexander. 

He licks into Alex’s mouth, hands going from inmoble to moving, running his hands up Alexander’s back and tangling them in his hair. He pulls just slightly and Alex can’t help the groan that escapes his mouth. Washington eats it up, tongue pushing against Alexander’s wet and hot and too damn good for him to comprehend. 

It’s when Alexander finally gets the courage to drag his hands down Washington’s chest that the older man breaks away. He stands up suddenly from where he was leaning against the desk, and walks to the other side of the room. Much like Alexander, the effects of their kiss is noticeable. He looks debauched, lips puffy and red, pupils blown. 

“Alexander,” Washington says, voice deeper than usual. 

“Yes, sir?” He responds. 

There is a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he embraces it. Alexander isn’t dumb, he knows where this is going. He knows what the quick break and distance means. He is brass and crude, but he is not dumb. 

“Have a safe trip to New York.” Washington says, nodding once before he turns and leaves the room without a backwards glance. 

Alexander stands there, heart beating too fast in his own ears, and watches him leave. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two baby here we go,,

When Thomas picks him up the next morning, the first thing the man says is, “You look like shit.”

He rolls his eyes, tossing the rest of his bags in the trunk. “Thanks for your kind words, Sweetie.”

Thomas stops him, hand on his shoulder, and Alexander turns to look at him. “Seriously, are you okay?”

_ No _, he thinks. Alexander knows he looks like shit. He feels like it too. He saw how he looked in the mirror that morning after a sleepless night thinking about Washington. His hair unruly from tossing and turning, eyes bloodshot from the late night, bags beneath his eyes and skin dragging. 

“Everything’s fine,” Alexander says, looking into his friend’s eyes, “I’m fine.”

He slams the trunk shut, and makes for the passenger door before Thomas can ask anything else. 

New York is different. It’s a good different, but the face paced environment is difficult to get used to in the beginning. There are a million times more people than Virginia, and Alexander is eager to get to know them all. He still keeps contact with Eliza and Angelica, through written letters every month. To counteract the constant reminder of what he’s missing, Alex throws himself head first into his classes. It’s mostly busy work for the beginning of the semester, but Alexander quickly gets to know his professors, some of his classmates, and gets started on the later assigned readings. It’s by the fourth week of classes that his professors know him by name, although that’s not necessarily a good thing. 

His name gets passed around with ease, an unexpected side effect of Alexander not being able to keep his mouth shut. There are whispers here and there about him, about how intense he is. Professor Adams, in particular, does not seem to be a fan. 

It is most likely a result of Alexander’s ten minute - in class - rant about Adam’s stupidity. It’s really not his fault, though. When Adams had spent an entire week talking about how incredible the Alien and Sedition Acts, Alexander couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. 

It comes at a good price, however, because as soon as Adams ends the class, fifteen minutes early with his cheeks stained red, a young man approached him. 

He was cute. Long curly hair and a face full of freckles that covered his boyish grin. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take down Adams with such grace.” The man said, holding out his hand as he smile grew wider. 

Alexander returned the grin, glad that someone could appreciate his words, as he shook the man’s hand, “Why thank you,” He pauses, unknowing the man’s name. 

“John Laurens,” He said, “And I’m going to bet you’re Alexander Hamilton.”

Their friendship grows easy, like wild daisies in the spring. John is just like him in almost every way. They get along easily, and - much to Alex’s surprise - Thomas and John get along decently as well too. 

It’s three and a half months into the semester that Thomas drops a letter on his desk. The envelope is pristine and crisp white, a return address of the law firm. Excited at the early response from Eliza, Alexander tears open the envelope. He unfolds it, eyes the top of the letter, and freezes. 

_ From the desk of George Washington _

He refolds the letter, returning it to its envelope, and shoving into a random desk drawer. 

His heart beats too fast in his ears, chest incredibly tight. He wants to read it. With every breath of his lungs and beat of his chest, he longs to tear the envelope back open and see Washington’s words, to feel the soft ink beneath his fingers, to touch the same paper that Washington’s own hands had touched, to see the curve of his letters and the precise jot of his punctuation. 

But he knows that for all of his longing, the letter will only worsen the aching in his chest. 

So he stands from the desk and leaves his bedroom, putting as much distance between Washington’s words and himself as possible. 

Days turn into weeks and time moves on. He spends his days studying harder than he should, acing his homework assignments and quizzes, preparing months in advance for final exams. 

Life moves on. 

“You know, you’re running yourself ragged.” Thomas says one night, while they’re eating Thai takeout and watching some random reality tv show. 

John, whose head is resting in Alexander’s lap, hums in agreement. 

“I’m doing what it takes to get ahead.”

His hand falls from where it was playing with his hair to tangle in John’s curly locks. They’re soft to the touch, the strands move beneath his fingers and John hums. 

“Don’t you have a paper due for Franklin tomorrow?”

He sees John peek open an eye at the comment, “Sh, I’m comfortable.”

Alexander doesn’t miss the knowing side glance Thomas sends his way. 

One week later, John kisses him. 

They’re both drunk from a long night at the bar, tipsy off the shots of tequila and the heat from the dance floor. The world spins as they crash into the door of his apartment, trying to keep their giggles at bay as to not wake the sleeping Thomas. 

Its when they reach his room that Alexander trips, knocking John up against the closed door. His room is dark, the moon impenetrable to the dark of his curtains. He can barely see anything in the dark, but John’s eyes shine. It’s not a second later that he feels a warm pair of lips against his own. It’s the first touch he’s had in months, and it makes his body ache. Alexander leans further into the kiss, pushing John up against the door. It’s hands everywhere, running down his back, over his arms, along the swell of his ass. John is a warm and hard line against his own, pressing himself into Alexander as if his life depended on it. As if both their lives depended on it. 

And it’s been too long. Too long since he thought of anyone but Washington. Since he found release to anyone but the thought of Washington. And John is perfect. He is handsome and funny and everything Alexander could ever want. But the simple thought of Washington opens a door of images to haunt him. Of Washington’s mouth on his, his tongue on Alex’s teeth, his hands on his skin. 

John turns them, walking Alexander backwards until his knees hit the bed and they fall with a lurch onto the mattress below them. 

“Alex,” John says, breaking their lips apart and trailing a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down his throat. 

And it's the reminder that he needs. This is not Washington. He is not with Washington, and Alex doubts he ever will be. This is John. His friend, his confidant, a man he cares for far more than he should. 

Alexander closes his eyes and sinks deeper into the mattress. 

When he wakes up the next morning, Alexander’s head is pounding. He rolls over and sees John next to him, burrowed beneath the blankets and still sleeping. He smacks John with the hand that isn’t beneath his pillow. John groans, throwing his arm across his eyes. 

“Laurens.” He whispers. 

“Shuddup, I’m sleeping.”

“Dude, we slept together.”

He watches John peek an eye open, “Shit.”

Alexander laughs for the first time in a long time right there. It’s open mouthed and makes his eyes roll back. The bed shakes with his laughter, and a moment later, Alex sees John laughing too. It’s nice that things between them are horribly strained and weird, at least not yet. 

“Seriously,” John says with a grin, “Shut the fuck up and let me go back to sleep.”

Alexander looks at him, pouting, and John rolls his eyes. He holds his arm up and Alex takes the opportunity to scoot closer to him. John’s arm wraps around his waist, pulling Alex into his heat. A moment later, he closes his eyes and lets sleep find him. 

Unsurprising to both Thomas and John, Alexander finds himself run ragged not a week later. He’s sick, badly, and feels like death might finally catch him. 

After a night spent tossing and turning in bed, before eventually sneaking into Thomas’s. His bed is more comfortable, the sheets softer. His head is pounding, his nose somehow stuffed up and running, and a cough so loud the tenants in the apartment next to him had banged on the wall. Alexander crawls into the comforter, his cold toes brushing against Thomas’s warm ones. He hears a hiss and then Thomas is swatting at him. 

“What do you want?”

“I’m sick, let me stay with you.” Alexander says with a whine. 

Thomas groans, and rolls over. 

He is woken up sometime later by Thomas, who sits on the bed next to him. Thomas’s body heat is warm and welcoming, and it’s all Alexander can do to refrain from dragging him back into bed. Thomas nudges him and Alex is pulled further from his slumber. 

“Here,” Thomas whispers, “I made some of my momma’s soup. Make sure you drink some water and take the Nyquil that I’m leaving by the bed.”

Alex groans, “I have to go to class. Henry takes attendance.” He mutters, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

“I know, Alex. We have that class together.”

“I can go, I’m fine.”

“You’re on death’s door.”

Alex rolls further into the bed. “Would you sign my name if I asked?”

Thomas look considering for a moment, “Yes, but you owe me a favor. Something to be chosen at a later date.”

In hindsight, Alexander should have looked into it. Into Thomas’s hesitation, to his careful placement of words, to the knowing look in his eyes. 

Instead, he simply agrees.

John comes over later sometime that day. The hours tend to blend together. It’s still light outside when the man enters Thomas’ room without so much of a knock. Alexander blinks up at him, looking like an angel in his sickness induced mind, the sun streaming in from the windows and enrathing him in its eternal glow. 

John takes one look at him, sprawled out in his underwear on top of the comforter, before he says, “Well, babe, you look like shit.”

Alexander chokes a laugh, that turns into a minute long cough. 

John swats at him, “Shower now.” 

Alex groans, but follows orders. 

The shower makes him feel a little more alive. The hot water helps a little of his congestion, and soothes the present aching in his head. Once he’s finished, dried and changed into a stolen pair of Thomas’s sweatpants and a t-shirt, he crawls back into bed. 

John brings him soup a minute later, and sits with Alex’s head in his lap as they finish their homework for Franklin’s class together. It’s nice, comfortable, but the thought of comfort reminds him of that which he misses the most. Washington. 

He wonders how Washington would take care of him. If he would cuddle Alex, let him steal his clothes, bring him soup and hold him tight when the pain got unbearable. He dreams of Washington that night. Of his touch and the taste of his lips. 

Two days later, once Alexander has finally regained his sensibilities, Thomas has to go and ruin it all. 

Alexander is sitting in the living room, reading through his homework for Arnold’s class - readying himself to call the man out on his bullshit - when Thomas drops an envelope on his lap. The return address is familiar to him know, sent from Washington’s law firm like his letters from Angelica and Eliza, and the unread one from Washington himself. 

Only this one is addressed to them both. He peels open the envelope, unfolding the paper inside. Inside is a printed invitation. 

_ You are cordially invited to the annual company retreat hosted by Washington & Green Law Firm. Like every year, this event will be held on the second week of November at the Spruce Lake Retreat in Monroe County, Philadelphia. This is a week long event held to honor the current and past employees of Washington & Green Law Firm. If you can attend, please RSVP at the following number, and an itinerary will be emailed to you. _

_ 1-866-907-3235 _

_ Sincerely, _

_ George Washington and Nathaniel Green _

Alexander scoffs at the invitation. 

“Throw it out, we’re not going.” 

Thomas drops down into the seat next to him, frown growing, “Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Washington?”

He wants to tell so badly. It would be a relief to not have to keep it to himself anymore, but his pride won't allow it. Not even to someone he trusts as much as Thomas. 

“Nothing happened between us. We’re perfectly fine.”

Thomas nods, “Then you’ll be happy to know I already sent in our RSVP.”

“Cancel it, I have class. Feel free to go alone, but I can’t.”

“I already checked your syllabi. We’re both free that week. Tell me what happened between you and Washington and I’ll think about cancelling it.”

He hesitates. It’s a compromise, and despite what everyone says, Alexander is not opposed to compromise. And it would be nice to get out of this. To not have to see Washington’s handsome face when he’s done up in his tux and bowtie. But he needs more than for Thomas to think about it. He needs a promise. 

“I’ll need more than consideration. I need you to promise you’ll cancel it.”

Thomas blinks, “No can do. If it’s not good then I’m not canceling.”

“Then I’m not telling you.”

“Okay perfect we’re going then.” 

Alexander pauses in his reading, sits his book down and frowns. “Friendly reminder you can’t force me to do anything.”

“I can’t,” Thomas agrees, “But I can always request a favor.”

And Alexander remembers. He remembers promising Jefferson a favor in return for him signing Alexander’s name on the attendance sheet. 

He closes his eyes, handing the paper back. “Fine then,” Alex says, “Looks like we’re going to the Poconos.”  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never update this fast, but damn this story is just running through my imagination! Thank you for your lovely comments.:)

Alexander spends the next 72 hours in a funk. He mopes around in bed, unable to find the motivation to work on any of the things on his to do list. It’s a good thing he’s already weeks ahead of schedule, because the simple act of opening his laptop is suddenly too much. Alex doesn’t know what’s wrong, he feels fine, but the motivation to care is gone. He’s fallen into an obsessive pattern again. He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t breathe without thinking about Washington. 

Thomas doesn’t say anything, but Alex knows he’s worried. He brings him food throughout the day, straightens up his room and doesn’t get mad when Alexander sneaks into his bedroom at night to burrow against him. Alexander puts on a decent facade, but he can still see the side eye glances Thomas sends his way. 

He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe the thought of seeing Washington again has set him on an edge he hadn’t even realized existed. He just feels off center, like he is drowning and doesn’t know which way is up. 

“Hey,” John says, knocking on the door of Thomas’s bedroom, “You okay?”

Alexander’s sprawled out, some stupid romcom that he hates playing on the TV in front of him. It’s on mute, the only sound in the room is the fan above him. He watches it spin once, twice, three times before he responds. 

“I’m fine.” He replies, “Did Thomas send you?”

John waits too long to respond, and Alex immediately knows that, yes, Thomas did.

The man shrugs, walks further into the room and drops down on the bed next to Alex. He lands on a half eaten bagel and a bag of cheetos. 

And he looks over at John, sees the pity in his eyes, and he can’t stand the thought. On an impulse, Alexander leans over and kisses him. John responds for a second, his lips soft against Alex’s before he breaks the kiss with a smile. 

“Alex,”

“Let’s go get dinner.” Alex says, words rushed. 

John’s eyes are knowing. He runs a hand along the side of Alexander’s face, his touch his soft and his motions gentle. 

“You don’t want me.” 

“What? Yes, John I-”

“You don’t, not really.” John says with a grin, “You’ve got it bad for someone else. I thought so at first, but I wasn’t really sure. But when Thomas said the thought of going to a company retreat put thee Alexander Hamilton on bedrest, well it kind of solidified my hypothesis. But it’s okay, I get it. I’ve been there. Hell, I’m still there in a way. Unrequited love is a bitch like that.”

Alex feels himself tense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, babe, I’m not stupid.” John tells him, “And you don’t have to talk about it, but you should know that I’m an impartial ear if you need to get it off your chest. Thomas says you won’t talk to him, and that’s fine, but I’m here if you want me to be.”

Alexander hesitates. John has a point. He is impartial. He doesn’t know Washington, can’t judge Alex for thinking he ever had a chance with the demigod himself. It would just be Alexander explaining the situation, and getting some feedback. Because he doesn’t know what it meant that Washington kissed him back, but he knows it meant  _ something _ .

“There’s a guy I left behind in Virginia. We weren’t together or anything, but on my last day he called me into his office and gave me a going away present. I saw an opening and I took it, so I kissed him. And he kissed back, John. He kissed me back, and it was perfect. And then he pushed me away without a glance back.”

John is a silent ear, just like he promised to be, and it feels so good to get it off his chest. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s like perfection. A god sent to Earth. He’s intelligent and handsome, and charming-”

“You’re all of those things too, Alex.” John interrupts him.

“Yes but not like Washington,” He says, “He’s perfect in a way no one can compare.”

“Wait. Washington? Thomas said Washington was your-” John pauses, eyebrows pulling together, “Oh my God, are you in love with your boss?”

Alexander sends a smile in his direction, “I might be.”

John collapses against the pillows with his hands clutching his chest, as if his heart is giving out. The facade is broken by the ridiculous laugh that seeps from his mouth. “Damn, Alex, I thought my situation was bad, but fuck you’re screwed.”

Alex snorts, glad that they’re making light of the situation instead of letting the crushing weight of his longing fall upon him. “Oh and just who are you pining over, Mr. Laurens? Is it that Barista on Fourth Street? The one with the rainbow in his hair?”

John shoves him, hard, and Alex has to bite back a yelp. It’s hard to contain, and flutters out interlaced with the continuation of his laughter. 

“You know Lafayette?” John muses, eyes stuck on the ceiling above them. 

“Like our graduate assistant Lafayette?”

“Yeah,”

“Oh shit.” Alexander says, laying back and joining John on the pillows. 

“I know right?”

Alex thinks of their GA. He is cute, Alex can admit. With his long curly hair always pulled into a thick bun on the back of his head, his always flawlessly trimmed beard, the soft way his eyes flutter as he speaks to them in a heavily French accent. 

“Fuck our lives, man.” Alex says after a moment, and John snorts. 

“Yeah, man, fuck ‘em.”

They lay there in the quiet for a long time. Alexander doesn’t know how long passes, but the silence is deafening but comfortable. John is warm next to him and Thomas’s cologne is present in the sheets they lay on, both present reminders that he might feel alone, but he’s not. 

After what feels like a long time, Alexander speaks, “Washington wrote me a letter, you know.”

John’s eyebrow arches, “What? He did? When?”

“Yeah,” Alex replies, “A while ago. Not too long after we moved.”

“Well, what’d he say?”

That gnawing feeling is back, and Alexander craves to open the letter again. To actually read it this time. To see the soft penmanship of the man whose attention he craves like no other. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”

“What?” John says, voice incredulous, “Why wouldn’t you read it.”

“I don’t want to know what it says. I mean, what could he say that would change anything? Either he’s sorry, he’s mad, or he wishes he didn’t push me away.”

“And you’re saying neither of those would change anything between you?”

“Not with him in Virginia and me here. I couldn’t bear to read it if it’s an apology, because he might be sorry it happened, but I’m not. And it’d be worse if he was angry at me or at himself. Because I can’t stand the thought of him being disappointed in me, and he did nothing wrong.”

“And if he wishes he didn’t push you away?”

Alexander hesitates. “I think that would be the worst thing he could say to me. Worse than disgust or disappointment, or anything in between. Because he did push me away, and now he’s hours away and nothing can be done about it.”

John nods, understanding, “But aren’t you seeing him in November? Maybe you could make up.”

“I don’t want to make up, John. How would that even work? A long distance relationship with my ex-boss? A guy who, not to mention, is incredibly far out of my league.”

“Touche,” John says, “But isn’t it killing you not to know?”

“Trust me, it hurts more than you’ll ever know.”

After a second, John says, “Let me read it.”

“What?”

“You don’t want to know what it says, right? I won’t tell you, but it might not even be related to your kiss. It might be about something completely different. Hell, it might be about the fucking retreat for all you know. So let me read it, and if it’s about the kiss, I won’t say anything and we’ll put it back in the envelope and never speak of it again. And if it’s not, I’ll read it to you.”

Alexander thinks this over. He has to say, it wouldn’t surprise him if Washington just completely avoided the whole kiss situation and pretended like it never happened. And at least this way, someone knows. Even if it’s not him, someone will know what Washington’s words say. 

“Okay,” Alexander says, “I’ll go get it.”

John gives him an encouraging smile, and Alex drags himself out of Thomas’s bed and into his own bedroom. He opens the drawer on the right and finds the familiar envelope buried under a stack of other correspondence. Where the envelope was once crisp white and pristine, it is now crumpled and stained from Alex’s constant handling of it. He’s never got to courage to open it, just held the paper in his hands and knew that Washington too had touched it. 

He returns to the bedroom, and hands the envelope to John. 

He watches as John pulls the letter from the envelope and unfolds it. Alex sees a flash of Washington's handwriting, crisp just as he remembered it. 

“I really doubt it's about the kiss, I mean you might as well just read out loud as you go. I mean what are the-”

“Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

He shuts up and watches John’s eyes as he skims the letter. At one point he stops, reading back over a sentence again, and his mouth opens just slightly and a scoff escapes. The anxiety in Alex’s stomach is rolling, and he feels panic seeping just below his skin. Alex watches as he quickly skims the rest of the letter, before nodding and folding it back up. He places the letter back in the crumpled envelope. 

“John?” He says, a sinking feeling in his chest. Once again, he already knows the bad news before it hits him. 

“Don’t read it.” John says, his voice betraying nothing. “Just- Just don’t read it, okay?”

Alexander blinks, watching as John shoves the letter into Thomas’s bedside table. He lays back on the bed, and Alex follows suit. 

They lay there in deafening silence that is nowhere near as comfortable as the previous one. Thomas comes home eventually, doesn’t even bother commenting on the two men in his bed, and just sits down beside Alexander. 

“We don’t have to go.” He says, and Alex turns to look at him. 

It’s almost dark outside, just a few rays of light flooding through the window. He offers Thomas a smile, and for the first time in a couple of days, it feels natural. 

“I think we do.” Alex says, “I’ve got to get over this, and I don’t think I’m ready to let it go yet. Not without following up.”

“Alex, we can just stay here and have a lowkey week. I can cancel the RSVP right now.” He holds up the phone and Alex snorts, slapping it onto the bed beneath them. 

“I’m an adult, I’ll be okay.” Alexander says, “And besides, I’ll have you with me.”

“Yeah you will.” Thomas bumps his shoulder against Alex’s, “And even if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, I’ve still got your back.”

Alex sighs, smushed between his two best friends on a too small bed in a too big city, and smiles.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn who else wants to know what that letter says??


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Err, not a good chapter but writer's block has been a bitch. Please be gentle.

The days roll by uncontrollably fast. In the blink of an eye October is upon them, and with it brings midterms. Usually, Alexander feels confident about exams, but the new college experience - and his gap years - have left him feeling a little less than prepared. 

He’s developed a routine of sorts by this point. Class in the morning, lunch with Thomas, afternoon classes and office hours, and then dinner at the house. After dinner, before he starts his homework, Alexander goes through his correspondence. He writes back letters to Angelica and Eliza, although the majority of his time is spent sitting there, staring at the crumbled white letter in front of him. 

The envelope has been through hell and back, much like Alexander himself. Countless times he’s fingered the paper in his hands, even gone as far as to partially tear open the envelope, only to shove it back in the drawer. He wanted to read it bad. There was nothing more than he wanted than to see what Washington said, to see if he apologized or if he tried to justify. But the thought of seeing those words, of seeing whatever the hell Washington could write, is too much for him to bare. 

And so it goes. He spends the days working on his laptop, asking too many questions in class, and generally trying to forget that Washington exists. 

He has a hard time choosing a topic for Adam’s class for their midterm paper. The parameters are wide, he only has to choose a President and compare their best action verses their worst - in his opinion. It’s not specific enough, though, and Adams doesn’t include any information about sources or format, so John convinces Alexander to drop by their Graduate Assistant’s office hours. He doesn’t know why John just doesn’t go himself, consider he’s half in love with the kid. 

But, like usual, Alex takes one for the team and finds himself outside the Political Science department’s Graduate offices in front of a pristine wooden door with the name, “Gilbert De Lafayette” written in pristine gold coloring. 

He knocks twice and hears a voice from inside. It’s deep with a french accent. Lafayette. 

“ _ Oui _ , come in.”

Alexander opens the door, stepping inside the office. It’s small, but neatly decorated to give it a sense of openness. The walls are a light grey, floors hardwood, and there is abstract art littering the walls in a way that looks effortless - when Alexander knows it more than likely was a painstaking taste. 

Lafayette is behind his desk, a pair of thick rimmed glasses on his face as he flips through a book in front of him. He looks up in surprise as the door shuts behind Alexander, and gives him a smile. 

“ _ Bonjour _ , please have a seat.”

Alexander takes the empty chair closest to his GA’s desk, and extends his hand. “Monsieur Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton. I’m in your 250 American Presidency class.”

“Ah  _ oui _ , I thought you looked familiar, and please call me Lafayette, or Gilbert.” He shakes Alexander’s hand, and his grip is tight but not unpleasant. “I’m pleased to finally see someone from my section in my office. Most of the  _ des gamins  _ are underclassmen, and afraid of office hours. I assume you’re a junior or senior,  _ non _ ?”

Alexander swallows around his frown, straightens his spine, and offers what he hopes is a convincing smile. “I’m a freshman actually.”

Lafayette doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. “ _ Vraiment _ ? Forgive me, you look much more mature than most of the freshman running around here.”

“It’s okay. I, uh, took a few years off after highschool, so you were right in that aspect.” He says, tries not to feel embarrassed by his longer than average gap. 

Lafayette must pick up on his discomfort because he offers a comforting smile, without pity, and nods, “Well there’s no shame in it, Alexander. I, too, took a few years between _ école secondaire  _ and  _ Université _ . I think it made me more adapt to the, uh, unexpected changes  _ Université  _ brought forth.”

He immediately warms up to Lafayette, more than he thought possible. He can appreciate the helpful commentary the man gives while remaining uncondescending. 

Alexander returns Lafayette’s smile easily, “Please, call me Alex.”

The resulting smile is blinding, “ _ D'accord  _ Alex. Now, what can I help you with?”

Midterms pass with a blur that Alexander is well accustomed too. He loses himself in the daily routine of study guides, notes, and powerpoints. He gets so invested in studying, that he loses track of the days, of the time, and for a small week, the thought of Washington is vanished from his mind.

When Friday comes, and midterm week is finally over, Alexander feels like he’s woken up from a month long fugue. His body is exhausted and he wants nothing more than to go home and curl up in a ball in Thomas’s bed and sleep for a week. But when John flutters his eyelashes and all but begs Alex to join him and Thomas at a bar on the South side of campus, well it’s not like he could say no. The thought of Washington has replaced the continuous thought of midterms, and he wants nothing more than to go out with his friends and get plastered.

He meets the two of them at a bar called _The Revolution_ around nine, a few hours after his last midterm. The bar is a dingy place, almost a dive bar, but the drinks are cheap and the music is decent. 

When he gets there that night, he finds John and Thomas in a booth in the far corner, and drops next to Thomas. There’s a plate full of shots in front of them, and Alexander downs two before he even says hello. 

“Rough day?” John says with a grin. 

“Rough life,” Alex responds. 

Thomas gives him a greeting in the form of a kiss on the cheek, and Alex replies with a wink. 

“Damn, looks like all of campus is here tonight.”

“Oh, you missed it. Guess who’s here for a graduate party?” Thomas says, and by the way John goes absolutely pink in his cheeks, it’s not hard to guess. 

“Lafayette’s here?” Alex asks, voice betraying his excitement. Throughout midterm week, Alexander had dropped by his AI’s extended office hours. And while Lafayette had been more than helpful with his questions, he’d also become a quasi-friend of Alexander’s. He wasn’t as interested in him as John obviously was, considering his heart is currently unavailable, but he’s grown comfortable with him. 

“Yeah, there’s a table of them by the bar. John’s been writing poems about his eyes for the past twenty minutes.”

Alex grins and John blush, somehow, deepens. “John, babe, just go talk to him! He’s a really nice guy.”

“What the hell would I even say to him?”

“Anything!” Alex starts

Thomas interjects, “Maybe not anything about his ass,”

“Point,” Alex nods, “Maybe just ask how his midterms went. Or say hi, or literally anything that’s not about how hot he is.”

Alex notices movement out of the corner of his eye, and sees Lafayette standing at the bar. He’s talking to the bartender, and a moment later the bartender hands him a beer. He sees an opportunity and takes it quickly. When Lafayette turns to head back to his table, and his eyes rack over the bar, Alex waves. He notices the moment Lafayette sees him, because his already pleasant expression grows into a deeper smile. 

“Alex, no.” John warns him, and Thomas snorts.

Despite John’s warning, Alexander waves him over. The man gives him a thumbs up and then holds a finger up in a way that means, “give me a second.” 

Lafayette turns to his table, mutters something with a grin, and then turns and starts making his way towards Alex’s table.

“Oh Johnny Boy, look who’s on his way over here.” Thomas sing songs, and John looks fucking miserable. 

“Fuck you Alex.” 

“More like fuck Lafayette, amiright Thomas?” 

Thomas snorts next to him, bumps his shoulder against Alexander’s and John rolls his eyes. 

It’s less than a second later that Lafayette reaches their table, his smile wide. 

“Hey Alex,” Lafayette says, his grin wide and showing all his teeth. His gaze rakes over the table and then that grin is focusing on John. “John, nice to see you.” 

“You too, Mr. Lafayette.” John manages to say without stumbling or blushing too noticeable. 

“Please, just Lafayette.” He motions to the empty seat in the booth next to John, “May I join you?” 

John scoots to the far side of the booth before the question even leaves Lafayette’s mouth. “Please.” 

Lafayette takes the seat with a grace that sparks jealousy in Alex. He waves at Thomas, “I don’t think I have you in class.” 

“Thomas Jefferson, and you don’t, I took my requirement with Professor Henry. This one is my roommate,” He says, bumping his shoulder against Alex once more. 

“Ah, Professor Henry is a fine teacher. It’s very nice to meet you, Thomas. I am Gilbert De Lafayette, but I prefer just Lafayette.” 

“Oh, yes, John’s mentioned you before. But it’s very nice to put a name to the face.”

Alex doesn’t miss the way Lafayette’s eyebrow arches. John sends a pleading look in Alex’s direction, and Alex nudges him under the table. John, thankfully gets the hint.

“So,” John says, breaking into the conversation, “How were your midterms?”

Lafayette lets out a long sigh and his head falls back against the booth, “Awful,  _ mon ami _ , I feel like I have aged a million years in one week.” He shoots a grin in John’s direction, “How about yours?”

“Pretty good,” John says, “A little nervous about Adam’s though.”

Lafayette’s head lolls to the side and his grin grows again, “Well I hear Adams has his graduate student do all the grading, so I think you’ll be okay.”

Alex watches their interaction, amused beyond belief. It’s obvious that they’re completely vibing and Alexander knows John’s best bet is if he can get Thomas and himself away from the booth. 

“Hey,” He says, whispering into Thomas’ ear, “Let’s go dance and leave these two alone.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Thomas all but drags him onto the dance floor. The floor is pretty crowded, but they manage to find a spot near the middle. The music is pounding in Alex’s ears and he pulls Thomas close to him. Thomas’s hands curl around his waist and Alex presses his back against Thomas’ chest. The grind is easy and comfortable, Thomas’ hands pulling gently at his body as they move across the floor together. 

He flips around and pushes against Thomas’ chest. There’s a sparkle in his eye and Alex winks at him. His hands go up to Thomas’s chest, and he giggles. 

“Come on,” Thomas whispers in his ear, “Let’s get a drink.”

They eventually leave the bar around two that night. John and Lafayette are still in the booth, looking cuddly and talking close. His feet hurt and he’s exhausted, so Alex sends John a quick message saying they're heading home. 

From John Laurens (2:04AM): Okay, staying here for a bit with Laf. 

They get back home and Alexander is about to pass out. Thomas is practically carrying him at this point, unlocking the door and pulling him inside. 

“Let’s get you to bed, babe.”

Thomas drags him into his bedroom and helps him onto the bed. He wonders if Washington would be able to carry him as easily. And his thoughts come full circle back to the bane of his existence. He wants to tell Thomas, wants to explain everything, wants to get his advice. Instead, all he can say is, “I have to show you something.”

Thomas looks curious. 

Alex hops down from the bed, pulling open his drawer and pulling out the crumpled letter. After a second of hesitation, he hands it to Thomas. 

Alexander watches the way Thomas’ face grows confused as he sees the return address. 

“It’s not open.”

“I can’t,” Alex says and his voice breaks, “Not yet.”

Thomas face is solemn, but not pitying. He looks at Alex for a long moment, before placing the envelope back in the desk drawer. 

“Come on,” Thomas says, his hand on Alex’s shoulder, “You can sleep in my bed tonight.”

Alexander lets out a sigh, taking Thomas’ hand in his - fingers intertwined - and following him out of his room. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for Alexander/Thomas (Whamilton is totally endgame, therefore I don't include hookups in the tags. Lmk if I should change this.)

November approaches with a speed unrivaled by anything Alexander has seen before. One moment, it’s the second week of October and he’s coasting off the high of midterm week, and the next moment it’s Halloween. 

Thomas convinces him to go out that night. In all honesty, the thought of showering and leaving the house is almost too much to bear. The thought of going out to some random frat party, drinking his ass off, and stumbling home drunk and regretful doesn’t really sound like a good time to him. He’d fought tooth and nail to convince Thomas to go without him, but then his friend had turned on the charm and Alexander was helpless to say no. 

“You have to dress up,” Thomas says with a frown, “It’s a Halloween party.”

“We don’t all like making fools out of ourselves.”

Thomas turns away from the closet, his eyes dark and wide, a sad expression on his face. And then he, honest to God, pouts. His bottom lip is stuck out and his eyes well up. 

“Fine, God, I fucking hate you.”

A second later the sad expression is replaced with a grin. Slimy bastard. 

“Perfect. What are you thinking about going as?”

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t care. See if you can throw something together with what I have.”

Thomas turns back to the closet, eyes narrowed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He comes back, fifteen minutes later, with a grin and a shine in his eyes. The sight of it immediately puts Alexander on edge. 

“Come with me,” Thomas says, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into his bedroom. Alex drops down on Thomas’s bed, as per usual, and catches the bundle of fabric that gets thrown at him. It’s a simple outfit, just a striped red shirt and a pair of calf high white socks. It takes him two seconds to put it together. 

“No,” Alex says, “Absolutely not.”

“You said you didn’t care, and I didn’t have a lot to work with!”

“What am I? A freshman sorority girl? I am not dressing up as Tom Cruise.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow, “Risky Business was a great movie.”

“It sucked and I can’t believe you made me watch it.”

Thomas doesn’t reply to his comment, simply pulls out a hanger - wrapped in plastic - from his closet. “Get out and go get dressed. I want to surprise you with my costume.”

He thinks about sticking around and arguing further, but ultimately decides against it. He knows he has to go out tonight. To stay home would mean to be alone, and being alone would most likely end with him getting drunk and being miserable thinking about their boss. And, for all he complains, Tom Cruise’s outfit actually left little to the imagination. It would be the perfect way to meet someone, and maybe even bring them home. And, honestly, what better way to get over Washington then to get underneath someone else?

(In the back of his mind, Alex knows his argument is weak. He’s already slept with John and that hadn’t solved his problem. So he might not get over Washington, but at least he’ll be distracted for the moment.)

“Okay, okay, whatever. But you better hurry up. Order the Uber when you’re done.”

He grabs his outfit for the night, and heads to the bathroom. It’s a quick shower, he washes his hair and lets the hot water run against his back. It’s relaxing, the heat relaxing his muscles and making him feel a little more alive. He eventually convinces himself to get out, dries his skin with the too rough fabric of his towel, and slips into a clean pair of white boxers. He brushes out his hair, leaving it hanging around his shoulders to dry, and pulls on Thomas’s button up shirt. It’s big on him - because his roommate is a fucking giant - falling a little big above his knees. The socks are next, plain white and soft to the touch. He adds a pair of white converse, because the thought of walking down the street with white socks and no shoes makes him cringe. 

Thomas has yet to emerge from his room by the time Alexander is finished, and he takes the moment to pen another letter to Eliza. He keeps it brief for once, tells her he’s looking forward to seeing her soon. As soon as he writes the word, his heart stops. 

It’s Halloween. Which means he’s got less than two weeks before the company retreat. Less than two weeks before their in Pennsylvania. Less than two weeks before he sees Washington. 

The thought is, unsurprisingly, terrifying. He’s not ready, not yet at least. Alexander can feel himself getting worked up. He can feel the panic seeping into his stomach, feel the way the anxiety curls around him. Quick deep breaths. It’s not like he’s going to be alone. Thomas will be there. His girls will be there. They’ll keep him calm, keep him company, and keep him away from Washington. They won’t let him ruin himself again. 

“Okay, what do you think?”

Thomas walks out of his room and Alex blinks. 

His eyebrows furrow, mouth twisting into something resembling confusion. 

“I’m sorry, who are you exactly supposed to be?”

“It’s not a who but a what, dear Alex.”

“Okay then,” He says, “What are you supposed to be?”

Thomas spins, giving Alexander the opportunity to see his complete outfit. It’s a black suit, almost every inch covered in bright orange jack o’lanterns. 

“I’m sorry, I guess I just don’t get it.”

Thomas scoffs, rolling his eyes, “What’s there to get? I’m me in a jack o’lantern suit.”

He wants to ask how exactly that qualifies as dressing up, but holds his tongue. By now he’s used to Thomas and his excentries and has learned that sometimes, just sometimes, it’s easier if he holds his tongue. 

“Okay then.” Alex says, standing up from the couch. He sees Thomas give him a once over and feels his cheeks flush. 

Thomas walks towards him and Alex automatically takes a step backwards. He hits the wall, trapped, and watches as Thomas takes one more step. He’s close, almost close enough to be touching, and Alexander swallows. His breath hitches as Thomas reaches up, his hand pressing against the wall right next to Alexander’s head. His eyes have an intense look in them, and it makes Alexander think of Washington. God, the way Washington had looked at him. 

Thomas leans in close, and Alex can feel his breath against his face. 

“You look adorable in my shirt.”

Despite the close proximity and the too quick beating of his heart, Alexander cracks a smile. He reaches out, his hand on Thomas’s muscular chest and pushes him away. 

“Let’s go, Loser, Uber’s here.” Thomas says, pocketing his phone from the table, and holding the door open for Alexander. It takes him a moment to gather his bearings, and after a second, he’s able to push off the wall and follow Thomas out the door. 

Alexander can hear the thumping of the base long before the Uber turns onto Frat Row. It’s a shitty rap song Alex can’t name, and it's just another reminder of how much he does not want to be here. The Uber pulls in front of Alpha Gamma Pi and drops them off. As soon as they’re out of the Uber, Alexander wants to call it back immediately. 

Alpha Gamma Pi is a large brick house - mcmansion really. It looks to be two stories, with pristine white window panes and four floor to roof thick pillars. There are people spilling into the lawn, windows open giving a view of the hectic inside, and the air smells like booze and sweat. 

“Come on, let’s find Ben.” Thomas tells him. Alexander sighs and follows him inside. 

Inside is, well, it’s insane. Most of the lights are off, save for a few coloured lights flickering around, and it’s hazy with the smell of weed and smoke. 

Finding Ben is surprisingly easy. Thomas spots him as soon as they enter the kitchen, standing next to the keg dressed as a Patriot Soldier, laughing with a girl dressed as what Alexander thinks is a sexy cat. 

“Thomas!” Ben says as soon as he sees them. Thomas greets him with one of those half “bro” hugs and a thump on the back. The sight of it is ridiculous and makes Alex smirk. 

“Hey Ben. This is Alex.” Thomas says, throwing a knowing look at the man next to him. Alex gives a little wave, feeling uncomfortable, “Nice to meet you.”

Ben, however, seems less uncomfortable and immediately pulls Alex into the same “bro” hug he had given Thomas. When they pull away, Ben’s smile is all boyishly imp, and Alex thinks it might even be considered cute. 

“Nice to meet you too. Thomas doesn’t shut up about you.”

“All good things I hope.”

Ben’s smile grows, “Occasionally.”

The girl next to them clears her throat, and Ben turns to her in surprise, like he had forgotten she was still there. 

“Oh right, this is Maria. Her boyfriend’s pledging. This is Thomas and Alexander. Thomas is in my intro to diversity in the US class.”

She smiles at them, her red lipstick contrasting against her dark skin beautifully, “Nice to meet you both.” She turns behind her, grabbing a tray of shots off the counter there. When she turns back, she thrusts them out. 

“They’re peach, I promise you’ll like them.” She winks at Alexander and interests sparks in his lower stomach. He keeps eye contact with her as he downs three. 

“You know what Alex?” She asks with a smirk. 

“What?”

“I think we’re going to get along.”

And so it goes. 

A few hours, and a lot of drinks later, Alexander, somehow, gets convinced to join Maria on the makeshift dance floor. It’s hot and he’s thankful for the lack of clothing that makes up his outfit. His vision is blurred from their earlier shots and his body feels loose. 

Maria twirls in his arms, pulling him closer and wrapping her hands around his neck. His hands find her waist easily, and he allows her to practically melt against him. She grinds against him, her head thrown back to expose her throat. He traces the length of it with his hand, watching the way her painted red lips spread in amusement. 

They only dance for three songs before her smile grows knowing. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one vying for your attention tonight.” She grins, looking past him. 

Alex looks over his shoulder, sees Thomas off to the side of the dance floor, cup in hand, as he talks with Ben, although his eyes are watching Alexander. When they make eye contact, Thomas gives him a smile. It’s easy to see he’s buzzing as much as Alex. 

“You should go get him to dance.”

“I don’t know about that. Thomas isn’t much of a dancer.”

“Come on,” She grins, “It’s not hard. And besides, with hips like yours dancing on him, I’m sure he’ll pick it up real quick.”

She releases his neck, pushing him in the direction of Thomas. Maria winks, blows him a kiss, and mouths, “Good luck.”

Caught without a dance partner, and in the mood to wear off some of his excess energy, Alexander drags himself across the floor until he stops in front of Thomas. 

“Alex,” Thomas says with that same smug smirk on his face. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Come dance with me.”

Thomas smirk melts into a frown. “What?”

Alexander smiles, batting his eyelashes. He grabs Thomas’s cup from his hands, sitting it on the sticky end table next to them. Reaching out, he grabs Thomas’s hands and interlocks their fingers. “I want to dance with you.”

Thomas looks hesitant for a long moment, before he deflates. His fingers squeeze Alexander’s and he trades a look with Ben. “Excuse us, guess duty calls.”

Ben winks at them, and Alex drags Thomas onto the floor, near where he was dancing with Maria only moments earlier. 

Unlike Maria, Alexander doesn’t face Thomas. He turns to other way, letting the front of Thomas’s body come to mold behind his own. It’s Thomas’s chest against his back, Thomas’s hips against his ass, and Thomas’s hands coming to wrap around his chest. 

It’s awkward at first, just them almost swaying on the dancefloor, before Alex rolls his eyes and throws his hips backwards. Thomas, it seems, takes the damn hint. Their dance goes from zero to sixty in .2 seconds, and then it’s almost too much. Thomas’s hands are everywhere, running along the length of his body as he pushes where Alex pulls. 

Their bodies move in tandem, like they were made for each other, and it’s fucking nice. It’s been too long since Alexander went out and allowed himself to have fun. Ever since he graduated from high school, it’s been stress 24/7. Stress about work, about his family, about school, stress about Washington. 

But for right now, for this very moment, it’s just him and Thomas. He closes his eyes, relinquishes in the way Thomas’s body feels behind his, and soaks in the feeling. They dance for so long that Alexander loses track of time. It’s not until Thomas’s lips brush against his ear that he realizes just how far this could go. And how okay he’d be with that. 

He turns suddenly, making Thomas’s hands fall to his hips. Even in the dark of the room, Alexander can make out his friend’s features perfectly. Thomas’s eyes are dark, his lips parted. He watches as his friend’s tongue comes out to brush against his bottom lip. He leans in close, mimicking Thomas’s movements from back at the apartment, and lets his lips barely brush against the other man’s ear. 

“You look absolutely ridiculous in the suit.” 

He pulls back, sees the way Thomas’s smile spreads soft and slow. His teeth are sparkling white in the dark, and it makes his knees weak. He’s always loved Thomas’s smile, especially when it was directed at him. 

Thomas’s hand finds his cheek, cupping it and running his thumb along the soft skin beside his nose. In this moment, his mind goes to Washington. And, for just a second, he wishes Thomas were their boss. But Thomas is so much different than Washington. And, well, maybe that's not such a bad thing. 

The music is loud around them, people still moving to the beat, bumping and grinding and hectic. He watches the way Thomas leans in, the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, and Alex leans up to close to distance between them. 

Thomas’s lips meet his and Alexander cannot help the noise that immediately escapes him. Thomas’s lips are soft and firm, pressing against Alex’s chastley. Alex leans further up, pressing harder against him, letting his hands find purchase on his friend’s hips, thumbs digging into the skin there. 

The kiss breaks and Alex’s heels hit the ground once more. Thomas’s hand is still cupping his face and he’s breathing too hard. He looks into Thomas’s eyes, licks his lips to chase the taste of him. He watches Thomas’s eyes flicker down to follow the movement, and he can’t help himself. All thought of why this is a terrible idea flies out the window and he forces himself forward and back into Thomas’s space. 

This kiss isn’t half as chaste as the last one. It’s still sweet, and Alexander thinks it’s because while they aren’t in love with each other, they still care about one another. Whether he wants to admit it or not, there are feelings involved. They might not be anything other than platonic, but they’re still present. 

Thomas’s tongue finds Alexander’s lips, swiping quickly against the front, and it’s too good for him to resist. He opens his mouth a little, letting Thomas lick in further. He kisses back with equal enthusiasm, letting his hands roam over Thomas’s body (and that ridiculous suit), and when Alex’s hands reach the top of his suit pants, Thomas lets out a groan that Alex eats up. He grabs ahold of Thomas’s belt, using it as leverage to pull the man even closer, and Thoams goes willingly. His leg finds its way between Alexander’s, and it’s just the slightest bit of friction that makes him breathless. And then Thomas is, honest to God, fucking his tongue into Alex’s mouth, and his knees go weak. 

Thomas breaks the kiss this time. He looks at Alexander for a moment, eyes trailing up and down his face, before he grabs his hand and starts pulling. Alexander follows after him, lets Thomas lead him upstairs. He opens the first door he sees, stopping short when they get a glance inside. 

“Whoops sorry,” Thomas says to the couple inside that’s doing whatever the fuck that was, and shuts the door. 

“What the fuck was that?” Alexander asks around the laughter bubbling up from inside of him. 

Thomas is laughing beside him, hand running over his eyes. “I have no idea, and I honestly don’t want to either.”

They have better luck in the next room. Thomas opens it slowly, as to not repeat his same mistake as last time, and pulls Alexander in when he finds it empty. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Thomas has him pressed up against the old wood, his lips immediately covering Alexander’s. 

He hums into the kiss, having missed the taste of his friend’s mouth, and lets Thomas’s hands grip his arms, pushing them above his head. The man’s lips leave his, moving to his exposed neck, peppering it with kisses and the occasional sucking of his skin. When he reaches the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder Thomas sucks harder, biting hard with his teeth and Alex hisses, “Thomas,” He groans, the pain going straight to his crotch. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Alexander says quickly, “Thomas, wait.”

Thomas stops, stepping away from Alexander, and leaving him flushed and panting against the door. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asks, his eyes still dark but his face concerned. His lips are red and swollen, and he looks so good Alex’s head falls back against the door behind him. 

“We can’t do this.” He says, “I mean you’re my best friend and we’re roommates and I have feelings for Was- someone else.” He catches himself. If Thomas was sober, and if he were thinking straight, he definitely would have caught the slip. Thankfully, he was neither. 

Thomas takes a few more steps back, putting distance between them. He runs his hands over his face and then through his hair. “You’re right. We’re friends and we’re roommates. We can’t.”

“Yeah.” Alexander says, trying to get his bearings. “Yeah. We can’t.”

He looks at Thomas, at the way his once pristine suit jacket is now crinkled, the way his lips are puffy and shiny, the way his eyes can’t seem to look at anywhere except Alex. 

“Yeah,” Thomas parrots back to him, although he sounds less and less convinced the more he says it. 

They make eye contact and Alex feels every ounce of self control drain from his body in an instant. 

“Fuck it.” He says, all but throwing himself at Thomas. The man catches him, lips meeting Alexander’s again. His back hits the mattress with a squeak of the bed frame, and then Thomas is on top of him. His hands keep moving, sliding up Alexander’s naked thighs, fingers digging into his skin - no doubt going to leave bruises there for the morning. 

Thomas’s tongue is hot and wet against his own, and he lets the other man take control of the situation. He wraps his legs around Thomas’s waist, pushing his hips up to meet the other man’s. He feels, more than hears, the groan that leaves Thomas’s mouth this time, and it makes him squeeze his knees even tighter. 

His hands go to Thomas’s suit jacket, pushing it off his shoulders as Thomas continues his minstations against Alex’s neck. He’s sucking hard, and Alex knows they’ll be hickies there when the sun rises in a few hours. He can’t seem to find it in himself to care, though. He moves onto the man’s tie, which comes off easily. His fingers reach for the buttons of his shirt, and Alex’s fingers fumble. He tries a second time, and his fingers slip, and his hand hits the bottom of Thomas’s jaw with a smack. 

He sees the other man flinch back in pain. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He says as Thomas rolls over onto the bed next to him. 

For a second he’s worried, until he sees the way Thomas’s shoulders shake as he hiccups a laugh. “Fuck you, you little shit.” Thomas’s voice is like gravel as he rubs his jaw. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Alexander says, trying to keep his voice steady, but his amusement bleeds through nonetheless

“Yeah, man, I’m fine.” Thomas assures him, his grin never slipping from his face. After a moment his laughter subsides. “We’re too drunk for this shit.”

“You’re right about that.”

“I can’t believe you punched me in the face.” Thomas says, his smile returning as easily as it had disappeared earlier. 

Alexander laughs with him, unable to comprehend the situation before him. He never expected to fall into bed with Thomas, but he’s glad it’s comfortable and not nearly as awkward as it could have been. 

“Fuck you,” Alex says with a grin, watching the way Thomas winks at him. 

“You sure tried.”

It’s ridiculous, and stupid, but it forces another laugh out of him. 

He pushes Thomas with his hand, grinning, “I hate you.”

Thomas leans up onto his elbows and gives Alex a chaste peck on the lips, “Take it back and I’ll have the Uber stop at McDonalds on the way home.”

“Shit man, I take it back. I love you so much, let’s get married right now.”

Thomas flicks Alexander’s nose, “You’re such a dork.”

“And yet you still adore me.” He says, not trying to hide how cheeky he sounds. 

Thomas rolls his eyes, grabbing his jacket from the bed and pulling it on. “You have your moments.”

He walks towards the door, stopping to look over his shoulder at Alex. “Let’s go whore, I’m hungry.”

Alex grins, climbing from the bed on shaky legs and following Thomas out of the door. The hallway is just as hectic as before, and when Thomas reaches for his hand, Alexander happily tangles their fingers together and lets him lead the way. 

These next two weeks are going to be hell, Alexander knows this. But, at the very least, he has Thomas by his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to drop a comment. I read/reply to them all, and they bring me so much joy and inspiration. 
> 
> [Thomas's Outfit](https://www.spirithalloween.com/product/halloween-costumes/mens-costumes/view-all-mens-costumes/adult-jack-o-lantern-suit/pc/4742/c/683/sc/4255/153385.uts)
> 
> [Alex's Outfit](https://carboncostume.com/risky-business/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment and feed my need for validation?

The car ride there is a bore. It’s a little less than two hours, and Alexander is on the edge of his seat the entire time. Thomas is playing some true-crime podcast Alexander’s never heard of, and while the cases are interesting, he can’t seem to lose himself in the narrative. He’s leaning back against Thomas’s cushy leather seats, one knee bent up against the dashboard and the other planted on the floor. Anticipation at seeing his friends mingles uncomfortably with anxiety over Washington, and the triple shot latte he had before they left wasn’t helping either. 

“Can you stop shaking your leg? It’s distracting me.” Thomas says out of nowhere, and Alexander stills his leg. He hadn’t even realized it was moving in the first place. 

“Sorry.” He responds curtly, his gaze is focused outside the window, staring at the continuous passing of trees. 

It’s a nice reprieve from the city, and if Alexander wasn’t so on edge, he might further enjoy it. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Thomas says suddenly, and Alexander looks over at him with a raised brow. When he says nothing, Thomas continues, “I know we weren’t the best of friends before New York, but I think we’re past whatever stupid rivalry we had. And, contrary to what we both expected to come from this arrangement, I do care for you, Alex. So if there’s something you need to talk about, I’m all ears.”

Alexander’s stomach tightens at his words. He would consider Thomas his best friend at the moment, and even though he spent half the year he worked for Washington hating him, his feelings morphed into undeniable fondness a long time ago. And while he wants to tell Thomas, but there’s a reason for his hesitation. There’s a reason he’s kept his mouth shut this long. 

He doesn’t know what Thomas is going to say. Alexander had been pining over Washington for months, back when he was Alex’s direct superior. Alex had kissed their boss, for fuck’s sake. He doesn't know what the expect as a reply to that. Would Thomas be mad? Would he assume that Washington knew about how Alexander felt, and that was why he obviously favoured him?

It’s a touchy subject that Alex doesn’t know how to approach. He wants to tell Thomas, but he’s  _ scared _ . He’s scared he’ll ruin their friendship. And maybe it’s just his anxiety making him doubt Thomas, but he doesn’t want to take the chance. 

“I know, man.” Alexander finally responds, “I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet. Why don’t you tell me what you think happened and I’ll confirm or deny.”

At least this way, he gets some sense of how Thomas feels about things. And if he guesses right, Alex will know by his tone whether he’s furious or not. 

Thomas hums to himself, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. 

“I have two theories.”

Alexander smiles at the way he phrases it. Like he’s a scientist making a hypothesis and going through the scientific method. It’s cute. 

“On with it then, Dr. Jefferson.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, shooting a smirk in Alex’s direction, “The first one was that Washington asked you to stay. That he asked you not to go to New York, and you told him no.”

And, honestly, it’s a pretty good theory. But Alexander wonders, if Washington had asked him to stay, would he have been able to say no? Sure, Columbia is his dream and he promised himself long ago he would never put his dream on hold for a man. But, as he thinks about it, Alexander doesn’t know. If Washington had asked, Alexander thinks he might have said yes. 

It’s a scary thought. It goes against everything Alexander has ever believed about himself, and he’s thankful - for both their sakes - that Washington didn’t. 

“Plausible theory, but not what happened. Next?”

Thomas looks hesitant before he speaks. He looks at Alex from the corner of his eye, and the tapping on the steering wheel speeds up. After a second, he sighs. 

“The second one was that he propositioned you.”

Alexander chokes on nothing. 

“W _ hat _ ?”

“This is my better theory, to be completely truthful. I’ve given it some thought. First, I’d have to be blind not to see how he looks at you. Second, it’d make total sense that he’d wait until he was no longer his boss to do it.” Thomas explains, and Alexander feels heat creep up his chest. 

“What do you mean the way he looks at me?” He asks, tries not to let his voice sound hopeful. 

Thomas, honest to God, snorts. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t notice? He looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive, tear you apart on the spot. Like he wanted you bent over his desk.”

The flush floods up his chest and into his cheeks. Now  _ that’s _ an image he doesn’t want to think about at the moment. 

“The only thing I couldn’t figure out is, if it was true, why you wouldn’t take him up on the offer.” Thomas continues, “I mean we’ve talked about how you thought he was hot, and you’ve mentioned his hands more times than I want to think about. Plus, we both know you’re not above one night stands. So I can’t figure out why you wouldn’t agree and spend your last day in Virginia in Washington’s bed.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me in Washington’s bed?” Alexander asks, trying to redirect the subject. 

Thomas rolls his eyes again and Alexander lets a smile cross his face. He would have thought talking about sex with Thomas would be weird after the party on Halloween, but they both got over it pretty quick. They had agreed that there was nothing there, just a mutual understanding that the other was attractive, but that they were just friends. And Alexander really didn’t want to have slept with both of his closest friends in New York. So, naturally, the subject was laid to rest. 

“Shut up,” Thomas says lamely, but there’s a smile on his face too. 

“Regardless of you’re, uh, interesting choice of hobby, it’s a pretty good theory. Although it’s not quite right.”

He sees Thomas’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “It’s close?”

Alexander smirks. “Maybe.”

Thomas sends him an annoyed look, although the sentiment is lost due to the fondness in his expression. “You’ll tell me eventually.”

“Key word being eventually, babe.”

Thomas’s snort greets his ears, and Alexander leans back in his seat. 

When they get to the retreat, it’s exactly like Alex had remembered it. The building before them is a large brown bricked tower that looks more like a mansion than a retreat. He can see the sign pointing towards the miniature golf course, and he remembers fondly last year when he got his ass kicked by Eliza. 

“Shall we?” Thomas asks, and Alexander has no reason to say no. 

He takes a deep breath and nods. They get their luggage from the back and make their way inside. The lady at check-in is nice, she smiles too big at them and gets them the keys to their room. With an over-exaggerated wave, she sends them off in the direction of their room. 

Thomas unlocks the door and Alex crowds in behind him. His luggage gets dropped onto the bed closest to the window and he sighs. The room is the same as the one he had last year, when he had shared with Eliza. Smooth white walls, tan carpet, the two neatly made beds, and a balcony with a view. 

The memories hit him hard in that instant, and for the first time in a long time, he understands how much he truly misses his friends. He’s got John and Thomas in New York, but he had spent a whole year in Virginia, a whole year of letting the Schuyler sisters creep and punch (Angelica did most of the punching) through his walls. He had loved them, and for once he puts Washington out of his mind, and reflects on how much he misses them. Yes, he lost Washington when he moved, but he lost his closest friends too. 

It’s nearing seven in the evening, and Alexander is exhausted. He wants nothing more than to curl up under the comforter with Thomas (because let’s be real, it’s not like they’re not going to share a bed, he’s practically moved into Thomas’s room by now) and go to sleep. 

“The itinerary says there’s a mixer at the bar, if you want to go.” Thomas says, not looking up from his phone. He’s sitting on the small couch in the corner, and Alexander rolls onto his side and stares at him. 

“Well, do you want to go?”

Thomas shrugs, finally looking up at him, “It’d be nice to see everyone.”

He has a point. And, besides, the Schuyler sisters would never let him live it down if he didn’t make an effort to see them when he first arrived. 

“Yeah, let me get dressed and we can go.”

He changes out of his sweatpants and into a pair of tight-fitting jeans and one of Thomas’s sweaters. It’s one of his old ones, so it’s not quite as big on Alexander as the rest of his clothing, but it’s soft and warm against his skin. He lets his hair down, combing it out with his fingers, and slips into his ratty converse. 

It’s as good as it’s going to get. 

“Do I look okay?” He asks as an afterthought. Washington is here. Washington is going to be downstairs. For the first time since he left, for the first time in months, he’s going to see Washington. And God help him, but Alex wants to look somewhat decent for what is, no doubt, going to be the most awkward encounter of his life. (and consider who he is, that’s saying something). 

“Perfect,” Thomas says with a wink, like he’s teasing Alexander for his worry. But Alexander knows him better than that, knows that Thomas is trying to assure him that things will be okay. 

“Well then, let’s go help ourselves to the free bar.”

He’s fine when they get on the elevator. He’s fine when the fourth floor passes. He’s fine when the third passes. However, when the bell dings and the light shows they just passed the second floor, his panic floods him full force. 

Washington is  _ here _ . Alexander is going to see him. 

He looks at Thomas, desperate for something- anything to calm his nerves. It takes Thomas only a second before he reaches out and intertwines their fingers. 

“You know I’m going to be right beside you.”

Alexander takes a breath and the elevator doors open. 

It’s like Alexander has been unknowingly thrown into a time machine. There are details that differ, but the situation itself remains the same. Thomas is beside him, offering a comforting presence, and Washington - in all his glory - is in front of him. 

He swallows and lets Thomas gently tug him out of the elevator. 

Alexander’s watching Washington, his breath caught in his throat. The man, their former boss, is talking with a guest- smiling at whatever they had just said. He’s dressed down, just jeans and a blazer, but he looks so good that Alexander cannot breathe. He looks just the same as he did months ago, the same wrinkles around his eyes, the same Rolex watch on his wrist. 

It’s just his luck that Washington chooses that moment to soak in his surroundings. He turns towards the elevator, and Alexander watches in something akin to slow motion - as Washington notices him. 

His hands, that were once fiddling with a paper in front of him, freeze. And Alex watches as the smile on his face - that beautiful smile - slowly slips off. It’s like a traffic accident, it’s hard to watch but Alexander can’t look away. He feels Thomas’s fingers tighten in his and he takes a shuddering breath. Washington’s expression is undeniable. He had spent too long cataloging the man’s every move not to know what those raised eyebrows and pursed lips men. 

He’s not happy. 

Alexander doesn’t know if it’s because he’s here, or if it’s because he’s with Thomas or whatever fucking reason it could be, but Washington definitely isn’t pleased. 

“You good?” Thomas asks, his thumb brushing against the back of Alex’s hand. He turns to look up at him, sees the concerned but knowing look in his eyes, and Alexander smiles. 

“Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah I’m good. Let’s get a drink.”

He turns back to Washington as Thomas begins leading the way, and finds that while Washington has rejoined the conversation, his eyes haven’t left Alexander’s. 

Alexander follows Thomas to the bar and doesn’t look back again. 

He orders a drink (beer because he doesn’t hate himself) and before he even has a second to turn around and survey the room, he’s captured in a hug from behind. 

It takes him half a second to figure it out. 

“Peggy,” He says with a grin, turning in her arms to give her an actual hug. She’s still a foot shorter than him, her head reaching just past his shoulders. Her arms cling to his waist and he pulls her tighter. 

“I missed you, you fucking asshole.” She says, voice muffled by his sweater. When she pulls back to look up at him, her eyes are shining with joy. 

“I missed you too, you dork.” He says, slipping back into his old personality easily, all thought of Washington pushed aside for the time being. 

“I have to go and find Herc, but promise me we’ll catch up soon?”

“Of course, you have to fill me in about your elopement.” He replies, wagging his eyebrows in a truly dramatic fashion. 

She grins at the mention of her rebellion and kisses his cheek. “I can’t wait to tell you all about it. Oh, and find my sisters, they’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“Okay, I will.” He tells her. Alex watches as she pulls Thomas into a quick hug, dropping a horribly graphic kiss on his lips, before pulling away. Thomas playfully swats her, the fondness on his face growing even fonder. 

He had never really understood their friendship. It was weird (although considering he fucked John and made out with Thomas, Alex can’t really judge other people’s friendships). 

Once his beer is firmly in hand, and Thomas is beside him, they venture through the crowd. Finding the other two Schuyler sisters is remarkably easy. The mixer has been going on for several hours now, and it’s an open bar, so he simply looks for Ben Franklin. Thomas spots him first, crowded in a corner with Angelica in front of him - hands gesturing wildly as she is (no doubt) ranting about something stupid he did. 

“Now, now,” Alexander says once they’re close enough that Angelica can hear him, “Don’t you think the man’s had enough?”

She whips around on him, coral dress swishing around her waist like she’s about to yell at him for interrupting. She stops when she notices him, her mouth remaining open. 

“Alex,” Angelica whispers to no one in particular. She reaches out to the girl a few feet away in the midst of a circle of people and pulls the girl’s arm. 

“Yes, my dear?” Eliza’s melodic voice greets Alexander's ears, and he can’t help the smile that curves across his lips. 

Angelica’s still looking at Alex, and when Eliza notices, she too looks over at him. A second later, he’s thrown back by the force of the hug that he is engulfed in. Angelica’s practically suffocating him with her hair, but Alexander can’t find it in himself to care. She pulls back, smile wide and eyes glazed over. 

Yeah, she’s drunk. 

“Where the fuck have you been? You totally missed it Franklin just said the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I missed you too, Ang.”

Her grin gets wider as she disentangles herself from his body. Eliza steps up behind her, careful fingers on her sister’s shoulder, and stabilizes her. Then she moves to take Angelica’s place. He watches her reach up and brush her cold fingers against his face. 

“It’s been too long, Alexander.”

He grabs her hand, turning it so he can kiss the back. He looks up her and smiles, “It has, my dearest.”

She flushes, cheeks turning pink, and pulls him into a hug. It’s less forceful than Angelica’s and less sudden than Peggy’s, but he can feel her desperation easily. 

“So,” He says, once they finally part, “Fill me in on everything.”

The four of them - Angelica, Eliza, Alex, and Thomas - find a seating area not too far from the bar to sit down at. Eliza sits beside him, Angelica’s head in her lap, and Thomas on his other side. 

“Long story short, things were really strange after you left,” Eliza tells him, “It was so weird not seeing you every day, and not hearing you pick fights with random people in the breakroom.”

“Glad to see someone noticed my absence,” He says, teasingly, but Eliza’s eyebrow only arches. 

“Oh trust me, hun, everyone noticed.” The way she says it, her tone, leaves Alexander confused. It sounded like she was hinting at something. 

“What do you mean by that?”

She grins at him, “Well if they didn’t notice from the lack of arguing, then Washington’s mood definitely clued them in.”

Eliza’s looking at him knowingly, and Alexander hates the way hope grows in his chest. 

“Do tell.”

“Well,” She starts with a long-suffering sigh, “The first couple of days were pretty bad. He didn’t even bother leaving his office. He got to work early, shut his blinds, and didn’t come out until everyone had left. Had his new secretary clear his schedule, wouldn’t even talk to the prosecutor for the Leeks case, sent Burr to do it.”

Yikes, if Washington sent Burr to do it, he must have been pretty upset. 

“That’s not even the worst part,” She says, “After a couple of days, he finally started coming out again, but everyone kind of collectively wished he wouldn’t have. I’ve never seen him so quick to anger before. He snapped at an intern because she used parenthetical references instead of footnotes.”

“But he hates footnotes?”

“I know!” She exclaims, and Angelica groans into her lap. “He eventually talked himself out of his funk, apologized to everyone, and gave us all 50$ Amazon gift cards.”

And that sounds like the Washington he knows - or, well, knew. 

There is hope growing in his chest, hope that maybe Washington was so out of it because he was upset that Alexander had left. That maybe he was missing him too. 

“He’s gone through six different secretaries since you left. And they were all actually great, I think you just sat his expectations too high when you first started.”

“How could I not? He’s George Washington, it was like my sole objective to impress him-”

“And you did.” A new voice interrupts him. Alexander feels frozen to his seat, and as much as he wants to grab Thomas and flee, he can’t move. 

When he looks up, Washington is standing in front of them. He looks so tall from Alexander’s perspective, towering over them both in height and status, in power. 

On instinct, Alexander grabs Thomas’s hand. Washington’s lips twitch a fraction at that, and then it’s gone and replaced with a genuine smile. 

“Boys, I’m glad to see you could make it,” Washington says, and God that voice. The same voice that has plagued his dreams for months, the same voice that takes a staring role in his fantasies, that voice that he missed more than words can describe. 

“Mr. Washington,” Thomas answers for the both of them - thankfully because Alex doesn’t think he could get words out of his tried, “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course, I wanted two of the best people we’ve ever employed to be here.” He says, and Alex sees his eyes dart to where Alex is clinging to Thomas’s hand before they move to Alex’s face. “Alexander, I hope you’re not causing too many arguments at college.” 

His tone is light, teasing even, and Alexander can’t breathe. He focuses on the feeling of Thomas’s warm palm against his own and offers what he hopes is a convincing smile. 

“Sorry to disappoint, Sir.” Alex replies, and his voice sounds scratchy and hoarse, “In my defense if my professors weren’t all idiots, I’d be able to keep my mouth shut.”

He’s not even thinking about what he’s saying, he’s just trying to get this conversation over as soon as possible. Thankfully, his words sound very in character for him. 

Washington huffs out a laugh at that, and Alexander’s heart constricts- all but forcing itself up his throat. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Washington tells him, “You’ve always been particularly argumentative.”

Coming from anyone else, it might be an insult. But this is Washington, and Alexander can’t stand the thought that Washington might mean it as anything more than a tease. 

“I hope you’re doing well, Sir.” Alexander forces himself to say, although it sounds like a lie to his own ears. He wants Washington to be miserable without him. He wants Washington to want him back as much as Alexander wants him. He wants Washington to be lost without him. Alexander wants Washington to feel a fraction of what he feels. 

“I’m doing fine,” Washington says, and his voice lacks conviction, “Same business as usual.”

Alexander smiles at that. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Washington looks like he wants to say something more, but a woman materializes at his side before he can continue. She whispers something in a hushed tone, and Alex watches Washington nod. 

He turns back to the four of them, offering a polite smile, “I’m sorry, but it appears my attention is needed elsewhere. It was great to see you both; enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Washington’s gone a moment later, leaving Alexander with nothing but the perfect view of his ass in those jeans. And if it seems that Washington’s hips sway a little too much to be natural, well, that’s really none of Alexander’s business, is it?

He turns his attention back to Eliza and Thomas, listening to them reminiscing about the retreat last year. Alex leans into Thomas’s side, closing his eyes, and praying he can make it through the week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo, what do y'all think the letter says? I'm curious to know your theories.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which this entire fic is just one big misunderstanding. 
> 
> Love it? Hate it? I want to know!

Thomas excuses himself somewhere around their third drink. He gives a subtle look around the room, before whispering into Alexander’s ear that he’s heading back upstairs. Anyone else and Alex might think it was just them telling him, but he knows Thomas is asking if that’s okay, if he’ll be okay if Washington comes back. 

He looks at Eliza, who’s sitting next to him watching the interaction with a knowing smirk, and Alex nods in response. “Course, I’ll see you up there in a bit.”

After Thomas leaves, Angelica trailing along behind him, Eliza huffs out a breath and grins at him. 

“Anything you want to tell me?” She says, and from the lith in her voice, he knows where this is going immediately and decides to shut it down before it can turn into something it's not. 

“Thomas and I really are just friends, Eliza. He’s been helping me, uh, get over some stuff.”

“And by some stuff you mean Washington?” She asks, blinking innocently up at him. 

And as much as Alexander doesn’t want to get into this right now, especially with Washington no doubt making his rounds throughout the venue, Alexander feels bad because he’s never actually told her what played out. In fact, the only person he has ever actually told was John, a man who wouldn’t know Washington if he slapped him in the face, a man who had no idea how truly long Alexander had pined. 

Eliza, however, had been by his side since the beginning. He had never actually told her how he felt about Washington, but they both knew she had figured it out. 

“I guess I never really told you what happened, did I?”

She shakes her head, answering what he already knew. Alexander looks around the room, and when he doesn’t see Washington - or anyone else that might overhear - he turns to face her more fully. 

“Well, I thought about what you said, and when I went to drop off the papers for the Leek’s trial he gave me a going away present. He was so close and I couldn’t justify lying anymore, so I kissed him.”

She sucks in a deep breath at that, obviously surprised, and Alexander leans in closer, “And he kissed back.”

The smack that hits his arm stings and he winces. Eliza’s grin is so wide, it looks like it might split her face in two, and she’s squealing softly under her breath, “What the hell, Alex! Why would you wait literal months to tell me?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, keeping the rest of his face blank, and acknowledgement seems to seep into her slowly, until the smile fades from her face. After a second she says, “It didn’t end well, did it?”

“No,” Alexander says simply, “He pushed me away and left.”

Her expression is soft, sadness in her eyes but a distinct lack of pity. They both knew, from the beginning, that the chance Washington would actually return anything was slim to none. This was expected, and he was accustomed to the pain in his chest. 

“Well at least he knows you love him now. At least you were able to say it to him, sometimes that’s the first step in getting over someone.”

The reality of her words seep in slowly, until Alexander has to turn away for a moment. 

“The thing is,” He starts, “I might have skipped that part.”

Her eyebrows furrow and recognition flashes across her features, “You what?” She blinks, “Oh my god, you dumbass! You didn’t tell him how you felt, you just kissed him?”

“Either way, ‘Liza, he made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested.”

She gives him another sad look and Alexander has to turn away from her again. He can’t stand looking at her face and seeing the sadness that lays there. It’s not her fault, it’s not Alex’s fault, hell, it’s not even Washington’s fault. Sometimes people are just destined not to end up together. Alexander hasn’t always had the best self esteem, but he knows now that he’s a catch. He’s smart and handsome, and his ambition is paralleled by no one. Washington, anyone really, would be lucky to have him. 

It’s no one’s fault that things don’t end up the way he wants them to. It’s just how it is. 

“It looks like people are finally heading out,” Eliza says after a second, “I can walk you to your room?”

“No, you go ahead. I promised Peggy I’d find her. We, apparently, have a lot to catch up on.”

This time, the smile she gives him, is sweet. “Okay, we could meet for brunch in the morning? Thomas too?”

“That sounds perfect. Have a good night, Eliza.”

She kisses his cheek softly, and he reveals in the embrace of her perfume. She drags her fingers across his cheek, hands warm against his skin. 

“Goodnight my Alexander.”

Once she’s gone, and Alex is left on the couch alone, he takes a moment to observe the thinning crowd around him. Most everyone must have already headed back to their rooms, and there are only a few people still scattered around. 

He recognizes Martha from HR and a couple other people from the office, but he assumes the rest must be employees that left before he joined, or were hired after he left. 

Alex stands from the couch when a swish of hair catches his attention. He thinks it might be Peggy, and takes a detour through the nearest hallway. He hasn’t been here in a year, but Alex thinks he knows the place well enough not to get lost. 

Ten minutes later and he redacts that statement. 

Alexander rounds a corner to nowhere he recognizes, and takes a left down a long corridor. He’s wandering mindlessly at this point, not really ready to go to bed yet, but not looking to butter up people he doesn’t know at the mixer. He takes a right at the fork in the hall, and stops in his tracks. 

Washington’s there, he’s here, leaning against the wall as he flicks through his phone. Alex takes a deep breath, reminds himself that he’s supposed to be here - he’s allowed to be here, and continues walking. 

Washington looks up at the sound of footprints, and offers Alex a slight smile. 

“Hiding from the masses?” Alex asks after a second, trying to keep his voice light and teasing- blank and non emotional. 

He watches Washington lock the iPhone in his hand and tip his head back against the wall. He looks so handsome in this lighting, younger and less stern than in the office. 

“You could say that.” Washington replies with a hum. The phone buzzes in his hand and he sighs, “Looks like my attention is in high demand tonight.”

He doesn’t look at the phone, however, simply tucks it in his pocket and keeps his attention on Alex. It makes him feel weird, off balance, to have Washington’s full attention after months of craving just that. 

Alex doesn’t know what to say, so he simply leans against the wall beside Washington. Thankfully, the older man takes that as a cue to initiate the conversation. 

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Alexander focuses his eyes on the lights above them and nods, “Yeah, I mean it was nice seeing everyone again. I missed the company, and I missed the people. Peggy, Angelica, Eliza,” He hesitates for a moment, “You.”

“We’ve missed you quite a lot too, Alexander. It seems like we don’t get half as much done without you.”

He’s a little buzzed from the drinks earlier, and it makes him a lot more bold than usual. Alex rolls his head to the side, lets his eyes rack over Washington’s profile, and lets out a little sigh, “We both know that’s not what I meant.”

“Alexander,”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it, you know?” He continues as if Washington hadn’t interrupted him, “I can’t get the memory out of my head. The way you felt against me, the way you kissed, the way you tasted.”

Washington moves from beside him in a flash, until he is standing in front of Alexander, just a few feet apart. It takes his breath away, all but forces it from his lungs, and he’s left clinging to the wall behind him. 

“Are you and Thomas dating?” Washington asks. His voice is warm, but betrays no sense of what he truly thinks. It drives Alexander crazy not to know. Once ago, he had been the one that could read him like no other. He was the one people came to when they needed to get a read on Washington’s mood, he was the one that could read him by the smallest tell. From the way he flexed his fingers, to the way his forehead creased in thought. 

Alexander used to know him. 

“It’s complicated,” Alexander lies. It’s not complicated. He knows exactly where things lie between him and Thomas, and it’s set strictly at friends. But he’s hoping for something, hoping for Washington to show some sign - some tell - that the idea bothers him. That he wants Alexander for himself. 

Washington’s eyes are dark and calculating. Alex watches them run the length of his face. From his eyes, to his nose, his lips and down the curve of his jawline. When Washington’s tongue comes out, just for a second, to wet his bottom lip, Alexander’s knees feel weak. 

“Most things are, my boy.”

Alexander’s breath hitches at the term of endearment. He shouldn’t feel special, Washington’s always used similar names with his staff, but it's the way he says it that sends a wave of want through Alex. It's the way he emphasises the ‘my’, it's the way it reminds Alexander that hell or high water, whether they’re in New York, Virginia, or Philadelphia, he is Washington’s, and no matter what he does, that doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. 

“Sir,” Alexander says, and it comes out too breathless. He’s still clinging to the wall behind him, unable to move, pinned in place by Washington’s gaze. 

He sees his boss take a step closer, and Alex’s legs spread wider - just a fraction - on instinct. He sees Washington swallow, watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Alex sucks in an uneven breath, and it only serves to smother his senses with the smell of Washington’s cologne. The smell of power, of status, of _ Washington _. 

He’s so close now, too close, and Alexander knows he should walk away. He should push Washington away, try to clear his head and get a grip on his emotions. But he’s frozen to the spot, and he knows that no matter how hard he’s tried to move on, he still wants Washington. 

Washington’s forehead meets his, their unsteady breaths intermingly, and Alexander closes his eyes. God, he’s so close, and Alex wants so badly. He wants it, him, so bad it aches. 

“Tell me Alexander, my boy, are you dating Thomas?” Washington asks again, his voice low and like gravel. 

It’s Alex’s undoing. He simply cannot help himself. Fuck it, he thinks. Fuck trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want Washington, that he’s better off without him. Because, yeah, he might be. But Washington his here, and he’s so close, and Alexander is still irrevocably in love with him. So, at the very least, he’ll give himself this. 

Before Washington can say another word, Alexander closes to distance between them. They’re lips meet easily, and Alexander groans at the taste of Washington’s mouth. The taste he had missed so much. The taste he spent countless nights trying to remember, trying to describe. 

His hands go down to that strong waist, pulling his boss closer, until he’s literally pushing Alexander into the wall. His head hits the wall behind him with such force that it hurts, but then Washington’s hands are in his hair, tugging at the strings, and Alexander feels nothing but burning need. 

It’s been too long since he’s been this close to Washington, and after months of fantasizing of craving him, Alexander isn’t going to deny himself this. His hands are everywhere, running across Washington’s clothes in an effort to map out every crease and crevice, every muscle and tendon of his body. 

He locks his ankle behind Washington’s calf, opening his legs wider and letting Washington’s hips push further into his own. The sudden movement, the friction, makes him gasp out loud, inadvertently breaking the kiss. Washington doesn’t seem to mind, taking the opportunity to trail open mouthed kisses down his jawline. He pulls back, dark eyes watching Alexander as his fingers curl into a fist in Alex’s hair. He watches, only for a moment, and then he pulls hard. The tug forces Alexander’s head back and another unGodly moan rips its way from his throat. 

They’re being too loud, out in the middle of the hall where anyone could walk in on them, but Alexander can’t bring himself to care. Especially not when Washington continues planting those exceptional kisses down the column of his throat. He stops about halfway down, biting softly on the skin there before sucking it into his mouth. It sends another shockwave down Alex’s spine, and he can’t stop the way his hips buck forward. 

He feels, more than hears, the small groan that leaves Washington’s lips at the newfound friction. Alex is able to get a hand under Washington’s jaw, uses it to force the man’s head back up. Washington’s lips are red, shiny with spit, and he’s never looked so good. Alexander kisses him. It’s all tongue and teeth, and nowhere near what would qualify as a good kiss. But Alexander is burning, shaking and falling apart with the amount of need coursing through his veins. He thrusts his tongue into Washington’s mouth, groaning at the way it makes Washington’s fingers tightened in his hair. He pulls away for just a second, and then Washington’s lips are back on his, his tongue fucking itself into Alex’s mouth. 

He maneuvers his hands back to Washington’s waist, pushing open his suit jacket and feels the warmth of his skin bleeding through his dress shirt. 

It’s with this movement that Washington’s hand falls from his hair, and he breaks the kiss. When Alex chases his mouth, Washington’s hand holds him back. The man’s thumb (thick, strong, beautiful,) presses softly against his lips. 

“Alex, you don’t want this.” Washington says after a moment, and his voice sounds slightly more composed. 

“What?” Alexander says, tears brimming in his eyes. What about this situation, exactly, makes Washington think Alexander is anything less than an enthusiastic participant?

“_ Alexander _,” Washington says, and it sends goosebumps across his skin. God, the way his name sounds cloaked in that Southern accent. 

“Please, sir, I want this. I want you so bad.”

Washington’s eyes are dark, watching him with something that looks like confusion. 

“But, Alex, I-” He cuts himself off, and Alexander feels morbid humiliation rise in his stomach, replacing the burning need that was there only a second before. He cheeks grow red of their own accord as the horrific truth seeps into his veins. Yes, Alexander might want this, but Washington doesn’t. 

It’s why Washington had pushed him away the first time, it’s why Washington was pulling away now. Sure, it doesn’t explain why Washington would respond to the kisses either time, but Alex has a growing fear that he might actually know why. Washington is a good man, a kind man. The kind of man that gives money to the homeless people outside their building, the kind of man who gives his staff gift cards as an apology, and he just might be the kind of man who pities his ex-employee enough to kiss him. 

Alexander pushes Washington away from him, trying to mask the hurt that’s obviously displayed on his face. 

“Alex-”

“It’s late. I should get back, Thomas will be wondering where I am.”

And maybe it’s cruel, and maybe it’s childish, but the words have their intended result. Washington’s jaw literally snaps shut, and he says nothing, and Alexander walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting there y'all!!! It's so close I can taste it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now we're getting somewhere. 
> 
> Next chapter's pretty short so you should expect an update soonish. 
> 
> Let me know what ya think? This chapter's a doozy.

He finally does get the chance to catch up with Peggy. She drops by his room that next morning, forcing him to go to the complimentary breakfast with her. 

They sit down at a table on the outside patio, and Alexander pulls his jacket closer to his body. The weather is nice, perfect for eating outside, but his body temperature has always ran cold. A lady drops by their table not even a second after they sit down, pushing a cart loaded with food. She leaves it by their table, and Alex takes a portion of the bacon, a few scrambled eggs, a piece of toast and a mimosa. 

“So, can’t believe you finally tied the knot.” Alexander says once he has his plate loaded with food. 

Peggy looks down at the sparkling engagement ring on her finger and her face morphs into a fond smile. “Be either,” She says, looking back up at Alex, “I mean, I knew it was coming eventually. I’ve known since we met that I wanted to marry Herc, but it’s still crazy to think about. We’re married. He’s my husband. I’m his wife.”

“How’d your dad feel about the elopement?” Alex asks. He missed Philip Schuyler. He had kind of adopted Alex as his own fourth kid once he started hanging out with Philip’s daughters, and Alexander could look up to him. 

Peggy smirks across the rim of her champagne glass, “He was pissed. I think he still might be pissed, but he’s also happy for us. Dad just doesn’t understand why anyone would want to get married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“I saw the photos on your facebook, and I think it was very charming. Herc’s baby blue tux was probably my favourite part. Right after your red dress of course.”

“Why thank you, Alex. Dad was expecting a traditional wedding, but when has Herc or me ever been traditional?”

Alexander smiles at that, because she was right. Out of all the words he’d use to describe either of them, traditional wasn’t one he’d pick. “Hey, all that matters is that you’re happy. And you are happy, right?”

The grin she shoots his way makes it very clear that she is happy, and her words only solidify it. “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’ve found the one, the guy I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

Alexander smiles back at her, although it feels halfhearted. He is happy for her and Hercules. They were so good for each other, they were the definition of soulmates, but it rings a reminder in his head about last night. 

He had kissed Washington.

But Washington didn’t want him back. 

“Alex?” Peggy says, her expression growing concerned, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He cools his expression, hiding his pathetically lacking smile behind his glass. “Nothing, just thinking.”

She looks hesitant for a moment. “Is this about Washington?”

His smile drops in an instant, panic flooding through him. Had she seen them last night? Did she know what happened before he left? Shit, was there anyone else that knew?

He tries to calm the thoughts racing through his brain, and rearranges his face into a puzzled expression, “Washington?”

Peggy rolls her eyes, and they go so far back that it must hurt. “Please, I’m not an idiot. It wasn’t really that hard to put two and two together.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well it was easy to see that you’re in love with him. I knew months before you left. You stare too much and you have a habit of talking about his ass when you get drunk.”

Mortification rises hot in his cheeks. “I do not.” He immediately goes on the defensive. 

“At first, I didn’t know if Washington felt the same way,” Peggy continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “But I knew after you left that he did. I mean, he was just so off. Usually, he’s the cool, calm, collected sort. But when you left, it was like the world ended. He hid out in his office for days, and then he all but terrorized the staff, eventually he got himself back together, you know, put on a show. But it was just a show. I dropped some papers off in his office about a month after you left, and he just looked so sad. He was staring out his window, where your desk had been, and it didn’t take long for me to figure it out.”

“Being moody could be from anything,” Alexander says, “It doesn’t mean he feels the sa- it doesn’t mean he feels anything.”

“Oh I know,” Peggy hums, “But that’s why I laid out the bait.”

Alex’s anxiety is replaced with confusion, “You what?”

“Well I decided to start bringing you up around him more often. At first, it didn’t get much of a reaction, he just acted like he didn’t hear. But, this one time, I loudly mentioned that I got your letter response in the mail, and I’ve never seen the look that he had on his face. Like he was sad, but also scared, and he got super pale and just darted. Locked himself in his office for the rest of the day.”

Alexander says nothing, just looks down at his eggs. They don’t even look appetizing anymore. 

“Alex,” Peggy says, and her voice is soft, “Did he write you in New York?”

Alexander nods, not looking up from his plate. “Yes,” He responds, “He wrote me one letter.”

“And what did it say?”

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, “I didn’t read it.”

When he looks up, her eyes are knowing. “You’re scared of him.”

“Not of him,” Alexander says quickly. He should be, should have been. Washington had been his boss, one of the most powerful attorneys in the state, and he had Alex’s career hanging from the tip of his finger. But Alexander had never been afraid of him. He had never been afraid to talk back, to express his opinion, had never been afraid of what falling in love with him might have meant. 

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“I don’t want to know what it said. I don’t want to read his rejection.”

“How do you know it was a rejection?” She asks, voice curious and puzzled. 

“I mean, Pegs, the man is oblivious. I spent months pining for him, and then things kind of went to shit the day I left, and then he wrote me that letter and I just know what it says, and I don’t think I can read it. I can’t know what he actually thinks of me.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, eyes calculating and lips pursed. When she replies, her voice is soft, “Alex, babe, Washington might be a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s the oblivious one in this situation.”

/

Alexander spends the rest of the week doing what he was born to do. Avoiding feelings.

He plasters himself to Thomas’s side, and the other man always seems amused, never annoyed, and Alexander thanks the Gods - once again - that he has this man in his life. 

They take Angelica on a hike through the woods, go swimming with Hercules and Peggy, and spend late evenings by the firepit with Eliza. 

It is nice, and it is good, and no one mentions Washington. 

As for the man himself, Alexander tries to keep as much distance between them as possible. He sees him, a couple of times, but it's usually when Alex is surrounded by his friends and Washington makes no move to approach them. It’s sad, Alexander thinks, that they’ve fallen this far from where they used to be. But he knows it’s his fault, he was the one who brought the fire and pain, and it was up to him to keep it at bay. 

So he avoids Washington like the fucking plague. 

By the end of the week, Alexander is exhausted. They’re leaving that night, Thomas wanting to make it back a day early so they could prep for finals. The only thing standing between him and New York is the_ end of the week black tie mixer._

It’s the same event that Alex had first realized his feelings for Washington at, and the same event that is doomed to be a miserable night. 

He really doesn’t want to go, but it's a celebration of Washington and Greene, and a thanks for hosting the yearly retreat, so Alexander feels obligated to be there. Even with things between them being so sticky and complex, Alex is still grateful for Washington. The man had been a guiding light in a time of darkness for Alex, had showed him the path out of hell and lead Alex out with a broad palm on his shoulder. 

He might not get Washington the way he wants him, but Alex is still grateful for the advice and knowledge the man had instilled in him. 

He’s dressed by six, sitting on the bed as Thomas messes with his hair in the bathroom. Alex is staring at the ceiling, trying not to get bogged down by the feelings in his chest. Just a few more hours and he’s homeward bound, Washington in the rearview mirror. 

When Thomas comes out a few minutes later, Alex snorts a laugh. He’s in a grey pinstripe suit, with a pink button up underneath it and a grey bowtie. It’s ridiculous, but Thomas still manages to pull it off. 

“Okay I’m ready,” Thomas says, holding out hand for Alex. 

“You look stupid.”

“Stupid good, babe.” Thomas responds with a grin and Alex rolls his eyes. 

If he could have one thing in the world, besides Washington and fame, it’d be Thomas’s oversized ego. 

“Just two more hours,” Thomas says, and his voice is comforting. 

Alex takes his hand, and lets the man lead him from the room. 

When they get off the elevator, Alex’s eyes immediately look to Thomas. He doesn’t want to look around, doesn’t want to see Washington, doesn’t want to have the reminder of their last kiss. He knows they’ll have to speak to him eventually to say their thanks and goodbyes, but he’s trying to put that off until the very end of the night. 

“Come on.” Thomas says, pulling Alex behind him. They weave through the crowd of mostly familiar faces until they get to the bar. Alex orders a rum and coke, and Thomas gets water. 

As they wait for their drinks, Alex fixes Thomas’s bowtie, running his fingers down the other man’s arms to smooth his jacket. 

“If you’re going to wear something like that, then you better make sure it’s perfect.” Alex says with a wink, and Thomas - being the asshole that he is - leans down and smacks a wet kiss against Alex’s cheek. He squishes up his nose, using his sleeve to wipe the spit off his face. 

Thomas snickers behind his cup and Alex jabs him in the side with his fingers. 

When Thomas literally squeals, and half the room turns to look at him, Alex can only raise an innocent eyebrow in response. 

They mingle for a while, speaking to the few people they haven’t seen throughout the week. When the clock strikes eight, Alexander pulls Thomas from the group of interns they were speaking with, until they’re closer to the corner. 

“What’s the polite amount of time to stay?” He asks, once their mostly alone. 

Thomas shrugs in response, “I don’t know, man. I mean I guess we could head out whenever. Might want to say our goodbyes first.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He says, dread creeping into his stomach at the thought of seeing Washington, of talking to Washington. 

“You find the Schuyler sisters, I’ll find James, and then we’ll meet back up to talk to Washington and Greene?” Thomas suggests and a little of the anxiety in his stomach settles. 

“Sounds good. Text me when you’re ready.” Alex says, letting Thomas press a sweet kiss to the top of his forehead. He rolls his eyes at his friend’s frankly ridiculous display of possessive affection, but Alex can admit that it soothes the rest of his nerves. 

Alexander weaves through the crowd, in the opposite direction of Thomas, until he reaches the small food table. No surprise, he finds Angelica stuffing a napkin full of miniature sausage sandwiches. 

“I think you’re supposed to eat and move on, Ang.”

“Shut up,” She says, folding the napkin and sticking it in her purse, “I work for Washington, what are they going to do? Sue me?”

He laughs at that, grabbing his own mini sandwich from the table. He turns around and the sandwich stops halfway to his mouth. 

There, only a few yards in front of him, is Washington. Alex had been lucky to have successfully avoided him throughout the night, and it was only a matter of time before he ran into him. Washington looks as good as he always does, in a crisp black tux and black tie. He’s got a glass of something dark in his hand, and a pleasant smile on his face. 

The only thing not perfect about it, is the woman hanging off his arm. 

Alexander’s eye twitches as he watches the two of them. It takes only a moment for Alex to place her. Martha Dandridge, head of Finances. She looks beautiful, long hair tied into a bun at the back of her head, a wine read dress clinging to her curvy figure. She looks put together and classy, mature and perfect. The exact opposite of Alexander. 

“Rumour has it he’s courting her.” Angelica supplies, rather unhelpfully, in his ear. 

Alexander feels jealousy spiral through his chest, a wave of heat and envy spreading through his neck and out to his fingertips. 

But beneath the jealousy, there is resignation. Martha was the kind of person that would be good for Washington. She was closer to his age, poised and beautiful, full of timeless beauty and sophistication. 

Alex is nothing compared to her. 

“Thomas and I are actually heading out,” Alexander says, pushing away thoughts of Washington as he turns back to Angelica, “I just wanted to say goodbye before we left.”

Angelica’s smile dips in the corners, but she nods understandingly. “Okay. Make sure you stay in touch. It’s hard enough that you’re a million miles away, I don’t want you to completely drop off the Earth.”

“I won’t.” Alexander says, pulling her into a hug. She smells like Chanel and vodka, and Alex knows he’s going to miss her. He always does. 

“It was good seeing you, Alex.” Angelica says as they pull away, and Alexander gives her a tight lipped smile. 

“You too, Ang. Don’t kill Franklin in my absence.”

“I’ll try my best. Make sure you say goodbye to Eliza and Pegs before you leave. They were by the bar when I last saw them.”

“Will do.” Alexander says, giving her one last kiss on the cheek before he turns away, searching out the rest of the Schuyler trio. 

He finds them, just like Angelica said, by the bar. Peggy almost suffocates him in a hug and makes him promise that he’ll write to her again. He promises. 

Eliza is much more put together in her own way, as she pulls Alex into a hug, leaving him with a quick kiss on his cheek, and a promise of her own to write back to him. It’s as they’re saying their goodbyes, that Eliza’s eyes dart somewhere above her head, and her eyebrow arches. Alexander turns around, cold dread filling him, as he takes in the figure that stands there. 

“Excuse me, Miss Schuyler, I was wondering if I could borrow Alexander for a moment.” Washington says, the glass from earlier having disappeared from his hand. 

“Actuall-” Alexander starts, and Eliza quickly interrupts him. 

“Of course, Mr. Washington. Alex was just saying goodbye.” Eliza says with a smile, when she turns to Alex, she winks, “Write back, my dear.”

Alexander swallows whatever he was going to say, and turns his eyes back to Washington. 

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” Washington says, and he doesn't sound angry or anything similar, he only sounds tired. 

Alex panics for a moment, eyes searching for Thomas, and when he fails to find him, he deflates. Might as well get the rejection over with in person then. At least this way, he won't have to read that damn letter. 

“Of course, Sir.”

He follows Washington through the crowd, watches the way people immediately part to allow him through. Washington turns down a hallway, giving them a little more privacy, but still close enough to the party that there can be no chance for funny business. 

Washington leans against the wall, quiet, and Alex’s nerves get the best of him. Thinking for something to say quickly, he ends up bringing up the one thing he really didn’t want to talk about. 

“Martha’s pretty great.”

Washington gives him a confused look, his hands in his pockets. “Um, yes I suppose.”

Alexander feels guilt creeping into his stomach. He had kissed Washington. He had kissed Washington when he was courting another woman. He had made Washington cheat on her. 

“I’m sorry.” Alexander says softly, “I didn’t know the two of you were together. If I had known, I never would have, uh, kissed you the other night.”

Washington’s lips quirk up at the side and he shakes his head, “Listening to rumours again, Alex?” He says, “Martha and I are just friends. Although, I suppose I, too, owe you an apology.”

Alex arches an eyebrow in surprise. What could Washington even be trying to apologize about? Every single misstep in their relationship has been Alex’s fault. 

“I didn’t mean to put your relationship with Thomas at risk. I never should have crossed that boundary, and you have to believe that I’m sorry.” Washington says, and his voice is emotionless, “It wasn’t my intention to cause any problems between you two.”

It’s none of Washington’s business, it really isn’t, but Alex can’t let the man go on thinking he caused a rift in a relationship that wasn’t even real in the first place. 

“I appreciate the apology, Sir, but Thomas and I are just friends."

This time, Washington’s eyebrow arches. “Just friends? You seemed pretty _ close_.”

It’s the emphasis on that last word that sends indignation straight through his chest. “With all do respect, Sir,” He hisses the honorific, “It’s really none of your business.”

Washington seems taken aback by the display of anger, although it shouldn’t surprise him. Alexander has always had a short fuse, and he can’t help when it starts to burn. 

“I didn’t think it was that hard of a question, Alex. Are you just friends or not?” Washington says, his voice beginning to loose it’s cool edge. 

“Just stop!” Alexander snaps at him. He knows he’s being crazy, knows he’s blowing this out of proportion, but he can’t stop. He’s angry and he’s hurt, and it’s making all these words tumble from his mouth, “Stop asking questions you don’t care about the Goddamn answer to. And please, for the love of fuck, stop cornering me and acting like,” He waves his hand, “this.”

“Acting like this?” Washington says with an arched eyebrow, “How exactly am I acting, Alexander?”

“Like you care!” He hisses back, knows his voice is too loud considering how close they are to the party, “Why don’t you stop with all the damn games and just tell me what you want from me?”

“What _ I _ want from _ you _?” Washington snaps back, finally losing that collected tone he always carries. He sounds hurt and bitter, and his words are sharp,“Why don’t you tell me what it is that you want from me?”

“Washi-”

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk right now.” His voice is cold, “If anyone is playing games here, it’s you. You don’t reply to my letter, which is fine, I get it. But then you show up here with Thomas acting like you’re together, pretending like I don’t even exist, and then you have the audacity to kiss me? So why don’t you stop with the damn games, Alexander, and tell me what the hell _ you _ want?” 

For the first time since that kiss in his office, Washington is laying it all out. He’s finally fucking talking, saying something more besides words with no meaning, and there’s too much for Alex to try to wrap his mind around. He gets stuck on the first point.

“What?” Alexander says, confusion quickly displacing his anger. He deflates a little, looking up at Washington with wide eyes. The letter? Does he mean the letter sitting in Alex’s desk? The letter he hasn’t read yet. 

“I prepared for this week, you know? Tried to plan how to act around you. I was going to set boundaries, keep it about work and school, try not to make you uncomfort-”

“Washington.” Alexander interrupts him, “What are you talking about? The letter? I don’t understand.”

Washington’s eyes are weary, cast at the floor when he responds. “You never wrote back. I took that for what it was.”

“I never read it.”

Washington’s gaze snaps back to him. He looks confused, relieved almost, but also a little hurt. “What? Why wouldn’t you read it?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know really. I just- with the way we left things, I couldn’t make myself read it.”

Washington nods and Alex watches as he takes a step closer. A moment later, his hand brushes against Alexander’s cheek. “Alex, I-”

“Ham.” 

Washington flinches away from him at the new voice. Alex turns, sees Thomas making his way down the hallway. Alex wants to roll his eyes, tell him to fuck off, but he doesn’t. He just watches as Thomas approaches, his face remaining blank as he - no doubt - tries to read the situation. 

“Hey man, I got the car out front ready to go.” Thomas tells him once he’s approached. “I was looking for you.”

“Right,” Alex says with a nod, “I was just saying my goodbyes.”

Thomas takes a step closer to Washington, whose face is also blank. 

“Mr. Washington, thank you again for the invitation. I had a lovely time this year.”

Washington smiles, and it looks sincere, “Of course, Thomas. I’m quite pleased you could find the time to join us.”

Thomas smiles back at him before sending a knowing look Alex’s way. “You ready, Alex?”

He nods at Thomas, “Yeah, just give me one second.”

Thomas turns, walking slowly down the hallway. Alex quickly turns back to Washington, offering him a small smile. 

“Thank you for this week, Sir.”

Washington’s eyes are fond when he nods in response. “Of course, my boy.”

He turns to leave, but Washington catches his wrist. When Alex turns back, Washington is looking at him in a way that makes his stomach clench. His eyes are wide, vulnerable and open. 

“Just- just read the letter, Alexander.”

Alexander nods, watches as Washington turns and heads down the hallway, in the opposite way of Thomas. Alexander shakes his head, tries to get his bearings back, before he turns and runs after Thomas. 

He reaches him before the other man gets to the end of the hallway, and Thomas looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“So, what now?” Thomas asks, looking over his shoulder to where Washington had been standing. 

Alexander shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Guess I got a letter to read.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update???? Wednesday maybe?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the letter is read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams in the distance* so guys... we're in the homestretch
> 
> scream with me in the comments, yes?

When they get back that night, Alexander simply wants to curl up next to Thomas and go to sleep. He’s dead on his feet, exhaustion humming through every inch of his body. The entire weekend had been nice, but he’d been on edge since that first night, desperate to avoid Washington. And that final confrontation had taken it completely out of him. He just wants to collapse, relaxing into Thomas’s ridiculous egyptian cotton sheets and pretend like he isn’t spiraling. 

But the letter. 

He wants to read it, honestly, because he thinks he might know what it says. But, still, there’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that tells him to just fucking throw it out. To leave Washington back in Virginia where he belongs, to forget about it all and move on with his life. It’d be the mature thing to do. 

But then again, Alex has never claimed to be mature. 

They walk inside together,Thomas pulling their luggage despite Alexander’s offer of helping him. Thomas heads to the bedroom to drop off their things and Alexander makes his way to the kitchen. He’s parched, mostly because Thomas refused to stop at one of the many different gas stations they passed on the way in. He rolls his eyes, walking past the bar where Lafayette sits, and opening the cabinet. His fingers grab a plastic cup, and he walks to the fridge. Opening the freezer he pops a few ice cubes in before filling it with nice, cold water-

Alexander freezes. 

He turns on his heels and, yes, he’s not losing his mind. Lafayette is in their apartment, sitting at the bar as he scrolls through his phone. 

“Uh,” Alexander says and watches as his GA looks up from his phone. 

Lafayette gives him a smile. “_Bonsoir_, Alex. Have a good trip?”

He’s so confused. Alex takes a sip of his water, wondering what piece of vital information he’s missing that could possibly explain why his fucking graduate advisor is sitting in Alexander’s apartment, at his bar, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a Columbia sweatshirt. 

The answer comes a second later when John walks in the kitchen. He, too, is dressed down in sweats and a shirt that Alex is almost one hundred percent sure belongs to Thomas. 

“Hey, man.” John greets him with a kiss on the cheek. Alex arches an eyebrow, watches the way Lafayette watches the scene with a fond smile on his face. 

“No offense, but why the fuck are you in my apartment?” Alexander asks with a grin, only slightly leaning into John’s touch. He’s affectionate, sue him. 

“Oh, yeah. Hope you don’t mind. Thomas said I could hang out here while y’all were gone, since my roommate has been annoying the fuck out of me.” John says, and then lowers his voice, “Plus, you know, privacy.” He waggles his eyebrows. 

Alex snorts, nudging his shoulder against John’s. When he replies, he keeps his voice soft as to not Lafayette hear. “As long as you didn’t fuck in Thomas’s bed.”

John arches a brow, “Wouldn’t you be more mad if we fucked in your’s?”

Alex scoffs, “Please, we both know I don’t actually sleep in there. What’s mine is yours, and what’s Thomas’s is mine.”

“Yeah, I’m practically used to his insistent night kicking, so I guess it works out.” Thomas says, interrupting them as he walks into the kitchen. 

He grabs the seat next to Lafayette and Alex feels a surge of affection as the two begin a quick witted conversation in french. 

“So,” John says, turning back to face him, “How’d the trip go?”

“It was fine.”

“It was fine?” John responds with a questioning look on his face, “Just fine?”

Alex digs his teeth into his bottom lip. When it becomes clear that Thomas and Lafayette are both caught up in their conversation, he whispers to John, “I kissed Washington.”

John’s expression is neutral, and it causes a bad feeling to seep into Alex’s stomach. 

“You kissed him?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, “And he kissed me back. But then we got into this weird argument before we left, and he said something about how I never responded to his letter.”

John takes a deep breath, and it’s enough of a confirmation for Alexander to know he was right. After a second, Alex continues, “The letter, it wasn’t a rejection, was it?”

John’s quiet for a moment before he answers, “I know you love him, but is being with him something you want? You told me you didn’t want that before, that it’d be messy and complicated with him in Virginia and you here. Did you change your mind?”

Alex answers honestly, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you figure it out and decide you want to give things a go, then you should read it. If not, then throw it away and don’t look back.”

So he was right. The letter wasn’t a rejection, it was something else. A proposition maybe. But Alexander didn’t know if it was the kind of proposition that he wanted. Washington was a powerful man, a man who could have anyone, but what exactly did he want from Alex? Alexander knows he couldn’t do a one night stand, probably not even an ex-employer/ex-employee-with-benefits kind of thing. His feelings for Washington ran far too deep for that. 

But at least, now, he has some sense of what the letter might say. 

“You know I kinda love you, right?”

John gives him that dimpled grin in response, “Yeah, dude. I know.”

He ends up hanging out in the kitchen for a little while longer, sitting next to Thomas and laughing at some ridiculous story that Lafayette’s telling. It’s nice, he thinks, to be back in New York surrounded by people he cares about. 

Plus, if the way Lafayette is eyeing John, they might be able to hit up couple’s night at BeQue’s soon. (Not that he and Thomas are dating, hell no, but its not exactly hard to fake.)

“Alright, I got a shit ton of stuff to do. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Alexander says, when Thomas suggests they move to the living room. 

“You work too much.” Thomas says from where he’s perched at the bar. 

Alexander draps himself along his friend’s back, hands clasping at the front of Thomas's chest, laughing at the way it makes his face scrunch up in fond annoyance. Alex gives him a quick peck on the cheek and Thomas rolls his eyes. 

“No such thing, my love.”

Lafayette’s watching the scene with an adoring look on his face. “You two are, uh, together, _ non _?”

He feels Thomas’s laugh and sees his lips curve into a smile, “Nah, Alex is just pathetically affectionate."

Alex scoffs, resting his chin on Thomas’s shoulder, “Says the man who woke up shoving his huge boner into my thigh three days ago.”

Thomas lets out a groan of embarrassment, “I was asleep, you asshole! And it wouldn’t have touched you if you didn’t fucking wrap yourself around me like an octopus when you sleep!”

Lafayette snorts, his head in his hand like he’s enjoying the show. John’s leaning against the counter next to him. John smirks, fingers drumming on the counter, “At least he called your dick huge. That’s got to count for something?”

Thomas groans again and Alexander only smirks. He pats Thomas’s cheek with his hand, “Don’t get too full of yourself, babe. God knows you wouldn’t be able to fit through the door if your ego got any bigger.”

Alexander pulls away, heading for his office. When he looks back, all he sees is John laughing into Lafayette’s shoulder, and Thomas flipping him the bird. 

Yeah, Alex thinks, it’s good to be home. 

When he gets to his office, aka his bedroom, Alex drops into his seat. Normally, this would be the part where Alexander would spend hours trying to figure out what he wanted. He’d sort through the pros and cons, trying to figure out if it was even worth trying to pursue something with Washington. 

But he thinks he already knows the answer. Alex closes his eyes, remembers the way he felt when Washington kissed him, touched him. He remembers the way he felt when Washington pulled away, how his stomach churned when he saw Martha hanging off his arm. How Washington’s eyes had looked when he pleaded with Alexander to read the letter. 

There never really was another choice. It’s Washington. It’s always been Washington. 

He opens the desk drawer, digging to the bottom until his fingers curl over a crumpled envelope. He pulls it out, looking at the horrific tape job John had attempted to concock after he had read it. Alexander tears through the tape, pulling out the letter. 

One deep breath, then he unfolds it. His eyes catch on Washington's handwriting. The way he crosses his t’s and dots his i’s, the way his f’s slope to the right and bleed into the other letters. Alex skims the letter, before stopping himself. These are Washington’s words, the words from the man he loves, and he is going to cherish them. 

His gaze goes back to the top of the paper, and finally, he begins to read. 

_ Alexander, _

_ It has taken me far longer to write this letter than I care to admit. My quill keeps hovering above the paper, ink splattering, as I try to find the words. It’s not that I don’t know what to say, but rather that I don’t know how to say it. I wanted to tell you in person, but every time I tried, the words became lost to me. Perhaps it is better this way. There is less pressure on you, and for that I am grateful. I would never want you to feel obligated to indulge me in anyway. I can admit it’s not completely selfless that I write this instead of telling you in person. It’s easier for me, too. Maybe that makes me a coward, but I’ve never claimed to be a perfect man. Please be reminded that I do not possess your skill of flowery language, so forgive me. _

_ To start, I need to apologize. The kiss in my office the day you left was misguided. Please do not think that means I regret it or that it was a bad decision, rather one that was mistimed. I was technically still your boss at the time, and I want to apologize if I took advantage of the situation. _

_ That being said, I do not regret what transpired, only how it transpired, as I assume you do not regret it either. What happened was misguided, yes, but it was you expressing a sentiment- a sentiment that I, too, happen to share. However, I do not claim to be all knowing, so I leave the final decision up to you. Whether or not this thing between us is pursued, I leave for you to decide. _

_ If I am right and you do wish to indulge me in the favour of your company and affections, please write me back. I know that you’re in New York for the time being, with plans to stay there, but New York is not so far away. I find myself there often for business, and on the chance you may wish to continue this, I would find pleasure in your company on these excursions. _

_ If I am wrong and you never wished this advance, or if you have changed your mind regarding the situation, then you can reply as such. I want to stress that no matter your decision, there will be no ill will harboured for you, only my continued respect and admiration for you quick wit and work ethic. _

_ If I receive no response, I will assume the latter and leave you to your life in New York. Once again, I want to express my deepest appreciation for the work you have done here at the firm and to thank you for bringing a little sunlight into my monotonous life, in the form of your spit fire temper and tenacity. _

_ It is hard for me to express this in letter, when I want nothing more than to tell you to your face. I miss you. I miss the way you write, the way you get that little crinkle between your brows when you fight with Thomas. I miss the way you walk, the way you enunciate every word as you try - and fail - to hide your accent. I miss the way you blush, miss the way it travels down your neck. I miss the way you knocked on my office door, how you always look so confident, but I know - deep down - that you’re just as nervous around me as I am around you. I miss your hair, the way it cascades down your shoulders, unruly just like the fiery passion in your eyes. _

_ I miss you. _

_ Be good Alexander, my boy, and I hope to hear from you soon. _

_ Forever yours if you’ll have me, _

_ George Washington _

When he finishes the letter, tears falling down the length of his cheeks and obscuring his vision, Alexander feels like an idiot. He wonders how much pain and confusion he could have saved them both if he had just sucked up his pride and read the damn letter months ago. 

His fingers curl the letter, and he stands from his desk. Fumbling, he makes his way into the living room. Thomas is there, smiling at whatever John had just said. Lafayette has his head in John’s lap, and it makes Alexander wonder if he could lay with Washington like that. All three of them look up when he enters, and their expressions immediately go from pleased to concerned. 

“Alex, what’s-”

“I read it.” Alexander says, unable to control the tears that keep cascading down his cheeks. “I read Washington's letter.”

No one says anything for a long moment, and finally, when someone speaks, it’s John. 

“Well Thomas, I know you were talking about how much you missed Virginia.” He says, eyes not leaving Alexander, “Looks like you’re getting that trip back after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Washington could have told Alex all this at the retreat, but 2 things. 
> 
> 1) I want to drag the angst and pining out as long as possible  
2) He's honestly stressin'. Washington's worst fear is that Alexander will feel obligated (due to power dynamics) to return his affections. He's worried that, if said in person, Alex would feel compelled to agree with whatever Washington wants. Therefor, he leaves the choice up to him by insisting he read the letter. I didn't know if this was a clear as I wanted it to be, so I figured a little note might emphasis it. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow only an epilogue left. It's crazy how far we've come. Hopefully the last chapter will be up sometime soon. Thank you for sticking with me. xx
> 
> On that note, this chapter contains explicitly adult themes and my (terribly written) attempt at soft-core smut. Therefor, do not read unless you're an adult.

Between the three of them, they’re able to convince Alexander that driving back to Virginia the Friday before finals week is a little insane. 

Lafayette, surprisingly, has the most convincing argument. 

“One more week, Alexander.” The man tells him as Alexander sits between him and Thomas on the couch, “Just finish your finals and then it’s winter break, and you can go back to Virginia without having to worry about getting back in time.”

John interjects after that, “He’s waiting this long. He can wait another week.”

There are drying tear tracks down his cheeks as he nods, before looking to Thomas. The man’s crouched in front of him, one hand rubbing small circles on Alex’s knee. 

“Stay until you’re done with finals. Washington might be your dream guy, but he’s not your only dream. You have to put yourself first.”

Alexander, thoroughly convinced, allows Thomas to drag him to bed. They leave Lafayette and John in the living room, finishing up whatever movie was playing on the TV, Alex giving them permission to crash on the couch or take his room if they wanted to stay over. 

It’s as Thomas is leading him away, Alex overhears Lafayette tell John he should take the bed, and he’d take the couch. 

And that really wasn’t what Alexander had been implying when he offered his bed, but he’s too tired to try and push them together any further. 

Alexander throws himself into Thomas’s bed, sprawling out as the other man comes to lay down behind him. He’s quiet for a moment, and then his fingers slowly tangle in Alex’s hair, his touch soothing and nice as he plays with the long strands. 

“You want to talk about it?” Thomas asks after awhile, and Alexander rolls over to face him. He situates himself into Thomas’s hold, tucking his head into Thomas’s neck. 

“You’ve been such a good friend to me.”

“I’ve been trying my best.” 

Alexander burrows closer, feels the way Thomas’s touch is still soft and sweet against his skin. It makes him feel good, like he’s finally found a home, and like there’s nothing for him to worry about. Thomas smells like his stupidly expensive laundry detergent and coffee, and Alex closes his eyes and speaks. 

“I kissed Washington before we left Virginia.” Alexander says into his friend’s chest, “And he pushed me away. That’s why I couldn’t read the letter, and why I didn’t want to see him.” And with those words, the entire story comes flooding from his mouth. Of his pining, of kissing Washington, of John and everything that followed, up until the moment when Alexander had finally, finally read the fucking letter. Thomas is quiet the entire time, only occasionally making noises of acknowledgment. 

When Alexander finally gets to the end of the story, he pauses. Let’s Thomas have a minute to comprehend the information overload he had thrown at him. 

Finally Thomas says, “I’m sorry you had to go through that by yourself.”

Alexander pulls back, looking up at him with disbelief. “I didn’t. You were with me the entire time.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what exactly you were going through.”

Alexander can’t help the fondness that spreads through his body, warm and inviting, “But you were still there. Even when I pushed you away and refused to tell you what happened, you never left my side.”

He feels Thomas sigh, “Of course I didn’t. You’re my best friend.”

“You’re a good man, Thomas Jefferson.” Alex says, reaching up to brush his fingers through the other man’s soft beard, “Maybe in another universe,” He trails off, letting Thomas pick up the thought. 

Thomas catches his hand, intertwining their fingers together. “Well, other universe Thomas Jefferson is a lucky man.”

Alexander is overcome with fondness and adoration for the man in front of him. It's hard to believe he had spent so long barely able to tolerate him, and now they were here, cuddling in Thomas’s bed together. Thomas was a good man, and if Alexander had met him a little soon - and if loving Washington wasn’t so all consuming - he thinks he might have fallen in love with Thomas instead. 

Alex leans up, connecting his lips to Thomas’s is a slow and bittersweet, chaste kiss. Thomas responds immediately, not deepening the kiss, but allowing Alexander to have this last moment. 

They break apart a moment later, and Alexander rests his forehead against the other man’s. He’s looking into Thomas’s eyes, and sees the way his fondness is returned in full. 

“I love you.”

Thomas’s lips crack into a smile. “I know.”

Alexander pulls away, tucking his face back into the crook of his friend’s neck, letting Thomas’s long arms wrap around him and hold him tight as blessed sleep, finally, finds him. 

He wakes up sometime later, too warm and mouth too dry. Alexander pulls himself out of Thomas’s grasp, feet hitting the hardwood floor by the bed as he walks quietly across the floor. He leaves Thomas’s room and heads for the kitchen. He rounds the corner, trying to be as quiet as he can, when the sight in the living room stops him in his tracks. 

The TV is stuck on the Netflix information screen, casting soft light throughout the living room. But that’s not what stops him. On the couch, Alexander sees John straddling Lafayette’s thighs, and the two are kissing. Well, kissing is one word for it, although Alexander would rather define it as attacking each other’s mouths. 

Lafayette’s hands are on John’s hips, and Alexander can see how tight they’re squeezing. John doesn’t seem to mind, too busy threading his fingers through Lafayette’s hair and slowly rolling his hips. 

Alexander quickly walks passed the scene, making sure to be extra quiet in the kitchen as he grabs a glass of water. When he returns to Thomas’s bed, the other man makes a noise of protest as Alex cuddles against him. 

“Remind me to get our couch professionally cleaned.” Alexander whispers, having no idea if Thomas can even hear him. 

The other man only opens an arm, letting Alexander slip into his hold and then Thomas is laying - half on top of him - his face pressed against Alex’s collarbone. He mutters a noise of understanding and Alexander can only huff a laugh, curling his fingers through Thomas’s hair and closing his eyes. 

One more week, he repeats to himself, one more week. 

The week passes by with an excruciating slow pass. Alexander attends his last lecture on Monday, then has two finals on Tuesday, one on Wednesday, and then two more on Thursday. When he turns in his last final, he quickly sends a text to John and Thomas, telling them he’s finished, and they’re stupid if they think they’re not going out that night to celebrate. Thomas had agreed that they’d head back to Virginia Friday night after his last final, so Thursday is the last day they’ll be able to hang out with Lafayette and John before break. 

He gets to The Revolution around eight that night, and finds Thomas, John, and Lafayette already gathered at a small booth in the back. He drops into the booth next to Thomas, immediately downing a shot from the tray in front of him. 

“Long day?” John asks with a grin. 

Alex snorts, “Long life.”

Lafayette pushes the tray closer to him and Alexander sighs. The liquid sloshes in the glasses and Alex picks one up, balancing it between his index and pointer finger. He hasn’t tipped it back yet, and when Thomas grabs a shot, Alex snorts. He clinks his glass against Thomas’s and drains it. 

Sometime later, when most of the bar has filed out and the jukebox has been stolen by the nostalgic older patrons, Alexander lets John drag him out onto the makeshift dance floor. Lafayette and Thomas are still in the booth, talking in quick French. Alexander wraps his hands around John’s neck, as they move to whatever slow song is playing from the speakers, and drops his forehead to John’s chest. 

“Why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?” He mumbles into his friend’s expensive shirt. John’s hands are low on his hips, moving them in a twirl between the tables and the bar. 

“You know I’ll see you as soon as you get back from Virginia, right? And you’ll have to call me and let me know how things go with your man.”

“I know, and I will.” Alexander says, looking up and blinking at John with alcohol hazed eyes, “Are you going to tell me about your man?”

He casts a subtle look at Lafayette, who’s still speaking with Thomas, but keeps throwing fond looks in their direction. 

“He doesn’t want to do anything until final grades are submitted.” John says, his voice low in Alex’s ear as he spins them quick, “But I think that once grades are in, I might have a chance.”

Alexander can’t help the smirk that spreads across his face. “If what I saw the other night on my couch was any indication, I’d say you have a shot.”

John grins, as his cheeks grow slightly pink, and rolls his eyes. “You were watching?”

“I only walked in for a second and it was more than my eyes could handle.” He teases, threading his fingers through the short curls at the base of John’s neck, “But you guys seem good together. I think he’d be good for you.”

The music swells around them, and John dips him. It’s ridiculous, too fancy for the dive bar their in, but it makes a giggle escape Alex’s mouth as his hands clench tighter around John’s neck. 

“Look at us.” John says once they’re upright again, “Look at how far we’ve come. Just a little while ago, we were both pining after unavailable men. And now I’ve got Lafayette, and you’re going to get Washington too.”

He brings his cheek to the underside of John’s chin and sighs softly, “I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I couldn’t have lasted this long without you having my back. I would have given up on Washington long ago.”

John grabs one of his hands, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it before intertwining their fingers as they keep moving to the soft music, “The same goes here. If it wasn’t for you throwing me and Lafayette together, I don’t think I ever would have even spoke to him.”

“Well, I feel obligated to call our meeting fate then.”

John’s quiet for a long moment, his smile soft, “Do you believe in fate?”

“How could I not? You said it yourself, we ended up here because of each other. I think that, no matter what universe we’re in, you and I were meant to meet each other. I don’t think there’s anyway we couldn’t.”

John’s pinks are cheek from the drinks and his smile is fond, “You and your pretty words, Alex.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

John presses a kiss to his cheek, “You’ll be back soon, with the man of your dreams, and then we’ll be back on our bullshit.”

Alexander laughs, looking up into his friends' eyes, and the love he feels is almost all consuming. He drops his head to John’s chest, letting him move them to the steady music, and just lets himself be. 

They leave the next afternoon, embarking on the four hour drive home. Alexander is anxious the entire trip, but - around hour three - he relaxes in his seat and turns his attention to Thomas’s stupid crime podcast. Thomas has a hand on his thigh, keeping him grounded and put together, and he lets his hand rest on top of his friend’s. 

Thomas stops an hour later. Alexander immediately recognizes where they are. They’re on Buckman road, and when he squints out Thomas’s window, he sees Washington’s townhouse. 

It’s late, the sun had already passed the horizon, and Alexander begins to regret this entire idea. Nerves are crawling in his stomach insastanly, and Alex doesn’t know if he can do this. What if Washington’s changed his mind? What if things are different now? What if Washington doesn’t want him here?

Thomas’s hand squeezes where it rests on his thigh. “You can do this.”

“I don’t think I can. This was a bad idea, we should just go back to Monticello.”

“No offense,” Thomas says with a grin, “But if you don’t get out of the car right now I’m literally going to push you out and drive away.”

“Fine, fine.” Alex says, opening the door and taking a deep breath. He hesitates before he shuts it. “Thank you, Thomas.”

The other man only shoots him a smile and a wink, “Knock him dead, sweetheart.”

He goes to shut the door, but Thomas speaks again. “I love you.”

It’s the plainly expressed sentiment that makes his heart ache. Months ago, he’d never thought they’d be like this. Comfortable with plainly spoken affection and love filled actions. But they are, and for it, Alexander is eternally grateful. 

He grins back at Thomas, “I know.”

Alex shuts the door and Thomas pulls away before he can panic and throw it back open, leaving Alexander standing alone in the street, staring at the door of Washington’s townhouse. 

Deep breath, he reminds himself. He can do this. If Washington’s changed his mind, Alex will simply collect his pride and make Thomas come back for him. Everything is fine, everything is cool, deep breaths. 

Alexander takes a second to collect himself before walking forward, his feet only managing to take him as far as the welcome mat. It feels like he can’t breath, like someone’s stepping on his chest, but Alexander raises his hand and knocks anyways. 

He’s waiting long enough. He’s not waiting any longer. 

The light on the small porch flickers on, and Alexander holds his breath. A moment later he hears the door unlock, and then slowly - like some kind of horror movie - the door gets pulled open and Alex releases his breath at once. 

Washington’s in front of him. 

He looks like he just got home from work, still wearing his dress pants and dress shirt, but he’s shoeless, his tie is loosened, and his white sleeves are partially rolled up. He looks good, so spinetingingly good, and Alexander can’t help the small smile that passes across his face. 

Washington’s expression is surprised but as his eyes narrow on Alexander - who stands hesitantly on the doormat - it grows almost confused. 

“Alexander, what on Earth are you doing in Virginia?” Washington says, and God, it’s only been a week but Alexander has missed him. Missed his voice and his face, and the way his eyes can’t seem to settle on one part of him. 

“I’m on winter break, sir.” Alexander says, “I’m sorry; I know it’s late, but I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Of course, is everything okay?” 

“Yes, sir, I just really need to speak with you.”

Washington nods, his expression is still delightedly puzzled as he pulls the door open further, ushering Alexander inside. 

Inside is warm and the lighting is soft and welcoming. There’s a spiral staircase in the entry, and a long hallway next to it that Alex assumes leads to the garage. 

“You can come upstairs; I just made some coffee.” Washington offers, and Alexander can only manage a nod. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door, and then follows Washington up the stairs. 

His heart is beating too hard and loud in his chest. He’s here, in Washington’s fucking townhouse, about to lay it all out on the line. 

They enter the kitchen and Washington directs him to one of the stools at his bar. Alexander sits and watches as he moves around the kitchen to fill two mugs with steaming coffee. Alex’s leg bounces against the chair and he’s physically unable to stop himself from moving. His nerves are like live wire, hot and unable to be controlled. 

Washington slides a mug in front of him, and Alex takes a long sip to avoid having to speak first. 

“I must admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here.” Washington begins as Alexander sits down his mug. It clinks against the counter, too loud in the quiet of the room. 

“I came to apologize.” Alexander says and he watches the way Washington’s face scrunches up at that. 

“What could you possibly have to apologize for, my boy?”

“I read your letter.” He says simply. 

Washington’s expression grows resigned, almost tired, and he nods, rubbing two fingers along the bridge of his nose, “I see. You’ve come to what? Apologize for not returning my,” He pauses, “_affections _.” He spits the word like it’s the root of all evil. 

“Quite the opposite, actually.” Alexander tells him, pushing off the stool and taking a step closer to Washington. He can smell his cologne, so musty and inviting, and he’s having trouble thinking, “I’m sorry for not reading it sooner. I’m afraid I could have saved us a lot of trouble if I had read it when it came in the mail.”

“What exactly are you saying, Alexander?”

“I’m saying New York isn’t that far away, and if you - maybe - wanted to meet up when you were in town, well, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Washington sighs, his eyes narrowing at Alex, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” He begins and Alex feels his stomach drop, “But our relationship up until this point has been entirely made of miscommunications, so I’m going to need you to spell it out for me. You say you wouldn’t be opposed to seeing me, but does that mean you want to?”

“Yes.” Alexander says, “Is that, uh, is that still something you want, as well?”

Washington takes another step towards him, “Very much so, my boy.”

Alexander’s stomach is turning with anticipation, but Washington is right - their relationship has been miscommunication after miscommunication and Alexander needs it all laid out. 

“But this can’t be a casual thing, sir. I don’t think I could do that.”

Washington reaches up, very slowly, and cups Alex’s cheek in his hand. He leans forward just an inch, and his breath his warm on Alex’s face. “Trust me, Alexander, there is nothing casual about my feelings for you.”

He leans into Washington’s warm touch, letting his eyelashes flutter shut. “What exactly are _ you _ saying?”

Washington’s quiet for a moment, and when Alex opens his eyes, he sees Washington looking down at him with unabashed fondness. “I’ve cared about you for such a long time.”

Alexander blinks, feelings hesitation grow deep in his bones but powers through, “I think I love you.”

Washington’s lips curve into a smile, ““I’m glad to hear that, my boy. Or else it’d make it a little awkward when I tell you that I love you too.”

It’s not surprising considering what Washington had written in his letter, but it still makes Alex’s heart do somersaults in his chest. 

Washington is still just looking at him, his thumb rubbing softly against Alex’s cheek, but he can’t wait any longer. Alexander pushes up onto the balls of his feet, effectively colliding his mouth against Washington’s. He overestimated how much force was needed, and Washington has to take a step back to keep them upright, but then his hands are coming to wrap around Alexander, pulling him closer and he pushes back into the kiss. 

Washington’s mouth is wet, his tongue warm against Alexander’s. He tastes like coffee and mint, and it feels like coming home. Alex sighs into the kiss, feels the way Washington’s (large, thick) fingers curl in his hair, as the man walks them backwards until Alexander’s back hits the counter. His hands find the counter next to him, pushing up as Washington’s wraps his hands around Alex’s thighs and push him backwards. 

Alex spreads his legs on instinct, more than pleased when Washington’s hips easily find their way between them. He hooks his ankles behind Washington’s thighs, letting his hands (finally) roam the God like body before him. He trails them down Washington’s neck, over his broad shoulders, down his back, and ends just at his waistband. 

Washington’s still kissing him like it's the end of the world, and Alexander makes a bold move, and grabs at the fabric of his dress shirt, yanking upwards so it slides out of his dress pants. Washington seems to take the hint, stepping back half an inch as Alex’s hands circle around his waist to the front of his shirt, and he starts frantically trying to unbutton it. Washington’s hands drop from his hair, grabbing at the hem of his tee shirt and pulling up. Alex has to break the kiss, and raises his arm as Washington slides the shirt from his body, and then they are kissing again. 

Alexander’s still trying to get the last few buttons of Washington’s shirt unbuttoned when he feels the man’s hands come up to assist him. He ditches the effort and, instead, moves his hands down to trace the smooth skin of Washington’s stomach. Eventually, the shirt falls from his shoulders and Alex tightens his legs, forcing Washington’s hips closer to the bar - and closer to the apex between Alex’s thighs.

One of Washington’s hands goes back into his hair, the other tilting his head up just a little, and Alex takes the opportunity to rub his hands across Washington’s strong hipbones and then dragging his hands forward, trailing a light finger down the trail of hair leading from Washington’s navel that drifts into the front of his pants. He dips his fingers just a little below the waistband, and groans when it makes Washington’s hand tighten in his hair. 

His lungs are burning, the lack of oxygen going straight to his head and making him feel dizzy and off center in the best kind of way. Alex is eventually forced to break the kiss, and Washington happily takes to trailing kisses down the column of his throat. 

“Not that this isn’t- mhm,” Washington bites down on his neck, which makes his words cut off, “Not that this isn’t nice, but don’t you want to, you know, move this elsewhere?”

Washington pulls back, his face amused but his eyes dark. “Where else would you like to go?”

Alexander loops his fingers through the belt loop of Washington’s pants and pulls him closer, “Well, if we were at the office, I’d say you could bend me over your desk. But, since we’re here, I’d say your bed’s a good second option.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Washington’s pulling him into a brusing kiss. It pushes him farther back on the counter, and steals the air from his lungs, but then Washington’s hands are wrapping around his ass, pulling him until he’s practically clinging onto the older man, and then he lifts Alex off the counter and starts walking through the kitchen. 

The realization that Washington can pick him up and carry him like nothing sends a wave of heat through Alex’s stomach and into his dick. He clings to Washington as the man makes quick work through the townhouse, and then a moment later, he’s getting dropped and his back hits the mattress with a thump. 

“There are so many things I want to do you,” Washington’s voice is deep as he crawls up Alex’s body. He settles on top of him, his thighs bracketing Alex’s legs and he’s heavy in a way that leaves Alex breathless. 

“Oh God, please.” He whines, feeling completely strung out as Washington unfastens the button of his jeans, pulling hard as they slide down his hips. 

“I prefer Washington, actually.” Washington teases as his jeans get tossed somewhere beside the bed, but Alexander couldn’t care less where they end up. 

He groans at the stupid joke, reaching down to unbutton Washington’s pants, watching with a dry mouth as the man expertly slips them from his legs and throws them - too - onto the floor. 

“What do you want, Alexander?”

“Anything you’ll give me, Sir.” Alexander says on instinct, keeping his voice low. 

Washington’s hips twitch forward just the slightest as the honorific leaves his mouth, and Alex can’t hide his smile. It was a thing for him, and the knowledge that Washington shares it is almost too good to be true. 

“Good thing I have a few ideas.” Washington murmurs in his ear, trailing a couple hot, wet kisses down his chest. 

His hands dip just inside the waistband of Alex’s boxers, and when Washington’s hand finally curls around his length, Alexander can’t help the hiss that leaves his mouth. At the first swipe of Washington’s tongue on him, Alexander’s fingers twist in the sheets. Its been too long since he had sex with anyone, and this was sex with _Washington_. He knew there was no way he would last long. Especially not with his former boss looking like the picture of debauched below him. 

It, unsurprisingly, doesn’t take much. Washington’s talented with his mouth, his dark eyes calculating as they watch Alex squirm above him, tracking every movement and repeating his actions that leave Alexander breathless. And when Washington looks up at him, his fingers carefully taking Alex apart, and whispers, “That’s it, _ my boy _.” Alexander didn’t really have a chance. He spends in Washington’s hand, body arching before he sinks back into the mattress - his breath effectively having been stolen from his lungs. 

He feels boneless, tired and incapable of movement, as he watches Washington clean them up with a spare t shirt that ends up thrown on the floor. 

“Just give me a second and I’ll return the favour.” He says, trying desperately to fill his lungs with oxygen. 

Washington lays down next to him, pulling Alexander against his chest. “No need. Tonight was about you.”

Alexander’s brow furrows, “What? I want to though.”

“You’re exhausted, Alexander. And, unless you’re planning on sneaking out in the middle of the night, they’ll be plenty of time later.”

“I would never. But, I- you- you’re hard.”

Washington’s lips quirk, “I think I’ll survive.”

And now that Washington’s said it, Alexander knows he is exhausted. He's been high strung all week, and now it's finally come to a head. And knowing Washington is finally his, and he isn’t going anywhere, is enough to convince Alex that he can wait a little while longer before he finally gets to worship Washington like he wants to. 

“Fine,” He agrees, having been convinced. “But we’re cuddling.”

Washington’s hand pulls him closer, and Alex goes willingly. He rests his head on the broad expanse of Washington’s chest, feels the erratic heartbeat beneath it, and sighs. 

“I love you.” He says, just because he can. 

Washington presses a kiss to the top of his forehead, soft and sweet, “I love you too, my boy.”

Alexander relaxes into his touch, feels his eyes grow heavy as exhaustion quickly replaces his arousal. He closes his eyes, the smell of Washington clinging to them, and thinks of fate. 

It might have taken years, and they might have been filled with angst and pining, but they were here. They finally made it where they were meant to be- where they were fated to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you loved this bad boy, don't fret now that it's almost over. I have so many whamilton fic ideas. So stay tuned (and follow my Tumblr) to know when I finally get around to writing another one.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's a wrap folks. 
> 
> a special thank you to everyone that's been involved in this whirlwind of a project. thank you to every single person that left kudos, comments (here and on Tumblr) and every single one of you that read this. I couldn't have finished this without your support. 
> 
> It's crazy to think that this was only supposed to be a one shot, and yet here we are. 
> 
> Thank you, again, from the bottom of my heart. I adore you.

Being with Washington is, well it’s _ being with Washington. _

He spends almost the entire winter break with Washington. They lounge in bed, talking about the most random things and Alexander finally gets the chance to get to know him better. It’s a ridiculously indulgent break, and for the first week they hardly leave the bed. Washington calls in to work, tells them he’s got something extremely important to take care of, and nobody questions it. He’s the boss after all. 

The first time they fucked, actually fucked he means, it was two o’clock in the morning after a frankly ridiculous netflix binge. Washington had taken his time, perfectly calm and put together as he spread Alexander open beneath him. And it was perfect. It was like every fantasy Alexander had ever had about his boss (and he had conjured up plenty) came to life right before his eyes. 

It was rough and fast but he could feel Washington’s eyes on him, ready to slow down or stop if Alexander needed it. He could feel the love pouring from Washington’s hands as they trailed over his face and through his hair. 

And then when they both finished, Alexander sore and flushed with Washington’s arm wrapped around him, they talked. It was nice to finally have an open dialogue with someone that had spent years closing himself off from Alex. It was that, he thinks, that Alexander had always craved. Yeah, he had wanted Washington to fuck him up against any avalible surface, but more than anything he wanted to talk to him. 

But all good things come to an end, and when January rolled around Alexander was hesitant to let loose his white knuckled grip on their honeymoon phase. Thomas said he was an idiot when Alexander called him the night before they were expected to leave to go back to New York, and the thing is, he is. He’s an idiot in love, an idiot that finally got what he wanted, and he doesn’t want to chance that anything bad could go wrong when he’s finally got it all figured out. 

Washington took him to Monticello that next morning, and after a mostly not awkward conversation between Thomas and their ex-boss/Alexander’s new boyfriend, the hardest part hit. 

He had clung to Washington like his life depended on it. The thing between them too new and fragile to let loose of. 

In the end, it was Thomas’s impatient glares and Washington’s murmured, “I love you,” that convinced him to get in the car. 

And things went back to the way they were before. Well, for the most part. Classes started back up and Alexander was back on his bullshit. He stays 2 weeks ahead of all deadlines as per usual, he fights with professors, and - somehow - Thomas, Lafayette, John, and him slip back into a routine. 

The only difference is that, now, Alexander isn’t silently pining after an unavailable man. He’s pining after his boyfriend. 

“Are you ever going to answer my question, or are you just going to stay there and keep drooling all over my cashmere sweater?” Thomas says suddenly, interrupting the montage of memories playing through Alex’s head. 

He jumps at the interruption and rolls his eyes, curling closer into Thomas’s body heat, “What did you even ask?”

A fond but annoyed sigh, “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Saturday. Washington’s first official trip to visit Alexander in New York. 

He hides the ridiculous curve of his smile in Thomas’s shoulder. “You could say that.”

“Alex,” Thomas says, and his voice sounds distressed, “I have to ask you a favour, and it’s serious.”

That gets his attention. He straightens his neck, looking up into the brown of Thomas’s searching eyes. “What?” He says, and he can’t hide the concern in his voice. 

Thomas’s lips pull down in the corner, and then after a too dramatic pause, he says, “Please don’t fuck in our bed.”

It's such a ridiculous, Thomas-esque thing to say that it punches a laugh out of Alexander’s throat. He lays his head back against the soft fabric of Thomas’s sweater and presses his hands close to the man’s side to keep them warm. “We’ll use my bed then.”

“You might want to make sure John and Laf know not to be here tomorrow, then, and you might want to change the sheets first too.”

Alexander lets out a soft noise of agreement, “You ever think about how they’ve practically moved in with us?”

“Every fucking night when I crawl into my bed and there’s a 5 and a half foot tomcat jabbing me in the side with his too pointy elbows.”

“I’m 5’7’’, fuck you very much.” Alexander says, faux indignance in his tone, “And you love having me in your bed, you pervert.”

He knows, even without looking at him, that Thomas rolls his eyes. “Yes, what’s not to love about someone who talks in their sleep, steals all the blankets, and has literally kneed me in the junk - while asleep - before?”

“Exactly! I’m very loveable.”

A moment of silence, “You have your moments.”

“Puh-lease.” Alexander replies, putting too much emphasis on the p as he looks up at Thomas, “If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably be dead from scurvy by now.”

Thomas simply arches an eyebrow, not looking away from where the TV plays some terribly cheesy 90’s romcom. “I get all my major food groups.”

“Babe, mac and cheese is not a food group.”

Thomas looks down at him and arches an eyebrow, “Are you ever going to shut up so we can watch this movie? You’re the one who wanted a movie night.”

“And you’re the one who started this by interrogating me.” Alexander replies with a snort.

Thomas sounds exasperated when he replies, “How does Washington even put up with your annoying ass?”

Alexander grins in response, “The world may never know.”

Thomas is a neat freak by nature, so when Alexander stress cleans the apartment the next morning in preparation for Washington’s arrival, there isn’t too much to worry about. 

He throws a few dishes into the dishwasher, collects and takes the trash outside, and then his attention gets turned to his own bedroom. He changes the seats (not looking too closely at them), sweeps the floor, tidies his desk, and freebrezzes the entire thing. 

It’s later, about fifteen minutes before Washington is set to arrive, that Alexander remembers to text John and Lafayette. He sits down on his bed and types out a message in the group chat. 

To: Fuck John Adams 3.0 [_ Johnny-Cakes _ , _ Lafayette!! _ , _ Thomas Shut the Fuck Up _]

_ Alexander _ : Hey y’all, wash is coming over tonight and staying the weekend, so if you stay, you’re delegated to the couch.   
_ Lafayette!!: _ Get it, Alex

_ Johnny-Cakes _: That’s okay, we’ll just crash in Thomas’s w him. 

_ Thomas Shut the Fuck Up _: I literally hate you all. 

_Thomas Shut the Fuck Up changed the name to, "nice guy searching for less annoying friends". _

Before he can even bother replying or changing the name to Fuck John Adams 4.0, there’s a knock on the door and his phone chimes. 

_George Washington_: I’m here.

He doesn’t bother replying, just drops his phone on the bed and rushes to meet Washington at the door. Alex swings it open, revealing Washington standing on the other side and looking at his phone. He looks up from his phone, and there’s the small twitch of his lips, and Alexander thinks he might honestly start crying right then. 

Instead, he settles on, “Hey.”

Washington arches an eyebrow, “Hello.”

Alexander’s smiling so hard that it physically hurts. He doesn’t waste another second before he leans up and presses his lips against Washington’s. It takes the older man a second to respond, and then pushes against Alexander, walking them back inside the apartment. His bag drops to the floor with a loud thud and Alex pulls away at the sudden sound. 

Washington’s hand is framing Alexander’s face, his eyes soft and full of adoration as he looks down at him. “I missed you.”

Alexander grabs him by the tie and pulls him in close. “I missed you too.”

They don’t end up fucking right then. Mostly because Thomas is home and Alexander knows he can’t be quiet (and he respects his friend’s hearing.) Instead, they lay in Alexander’s bed, and he’s curled around Washington as the man runs his fingers through Alex’s hair. 

“I like your room.” Washington murmurs and his voice is low, sleepy even. 

Alexander smiles and presses closer against him, “Thank you.”

“It doesn’t seem very you, though.”

Alex glances around the room, taking note of the area that he never bothered to decorate. He had never really considered this his room and he’d spent the majority of last semester clinging to Thomas in the man’s bed every night. 

But he has no idea how he’s supposed to tell that to his boyfriend. Instead, he simply shrugs, “I don’t spend much time in here.”

“And where do you usually spend your time?”

At this, Alexander leans up on his elbow and looks into Washington’s eyes. They’re gentle yet curious, and he doesn’t look like he’s trying to goad Alexander into a fight. He figures then that honesty is probably the best policy. They’ve had enough misunderstandings for a lifetime, and he really doesn’t want Thomas to be another one. 

His fingers fiddle with a button on Washington’s shirt, “Can I tell you something without you getting pissed?”

Washington leans forward and captures Alex’s hand in his own. His skin is warm and calloused against Alexander’s, “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

Alexander takes a deep breath and bites the bullet in one quick sentence, “Most of the time I sleep in Thomas’s bed.” and then he tags on, “With him.”

Washington blinks once. “Okay.”

“But it’s not like that, it’s not like anything. There’s no romance or feelings or anything there, I mean we almost had sex once but that’s a story for another time, the point is I’m not in love with him. I love him, but not like I love you,” Alexander begins, and once the rambling starts he can’t stop it, “And I would never cheat on you, I swear. We’ve literally been through hell as it is, and no one can compare to you. Trust me when I say I tried to get over you but it was impossible because I fucking kind of love you like a lot and I-”

“Alexander,” Washington says in a quick and even breath, “Relax, I don’t think you’re cheating on me.”

“I- what?”

Washington looks almost amused when he replies, “I’ve known since the retreat that you and Thomas were close. And while I can admit that I was jealous at first when I saw the two of you together, because I thought you might have moved on, but I know better now. And if you say that you and Thomas are just friends, then I trust you.”

And Alexander is speechless. Out of all the responses he could have expected, that was not one of them. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re the best boyfriend to live?”

He sees Washington’s huff of laughter, “Not in a very long time.”

Alexander lays his head back down against Washington’s chest, his hand still intertwined with his boyfriend’s, “Well you are.”

“This would probably be a good time for me to tell you something.” Washington begins and his voice is confident but there’s something else - some other emotion - hidden in his words, “If things ever change, and you don’t want this anymore, I want you to tell me. I don’t want you to feel trapped or pressured, and I don’t want you to think that you can’t be honest with me. If there comes a time when you don’t want this - us - anymore, just tell me, okay?”

Alexander blinks up at him, “That’ll never happen.”

Washington’s smile is fond and a little bittersweet, “You’re young, and a lot can happen in a few years. Just promise me that if it does happen, we’ll talk about it?”

Alexander can see that this is important to the other man, can tell that Washington is steadfast in his words, so he delfates a little. Washington has already given him so much, the least he can do is give him this. 

“I promise,” Alexander breathes, “But I also promise that there isn’t going to be a single day in the rest of my life that I’m not in love with you.”

He feels Washington’s deep exhale of breath and his fingers tighten around Alex’s, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re the best boyfriend?”

Alexander cuddles closer to him and parrots back Washington’s words from minutes prior with a smile, “Not in a really long time.”

Washington meeting Lafayette and John actually goes surprisingly well. 

John raises an unimpressed eyebrow as he shakes Washington’s hand and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I’m a chemistry major, so if you ever hurt him, I know how to make sure they never find your body,” under his breath. 

Before Alexander can interrupt and call the dogs off, Lafayette throws his arm around John’s shoulder and offers Washington that socialite smile of his as he stretches out his hand, “Monsieur Washington, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

It’s that night that John convinces them all to watch some new Netflix movie in the living room, and it’s then - with his head on Washington’s lap and his feet on Thomas’s - that Alexander realizes that everything is okay. He’s got a paper due in fifteen days that he hasn’t even started on, an article due on his blog in four days, and a million other things he needs to do. 

But, as Washington runs his fingers through the length of Alexander’s hair, he thinks that - just this once - those million things can wait. 

Just a little while longer, at least. 

_ fin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Please don’t fuck in our bed.” eeek sorry im a slut for Thomas calling it their bed. 
> 
> also don't fear now that this is over! I have another Whamilton fic in the planning stage at the moment, and if you liked this one, then I'm sure you'll like my next one as well. Keep an eye out on my Tumblr (writtenrevolution) for updates!


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